


In Need of a Roommate

by super_queer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Anxiety, Awkward First Times, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Break Up, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Confessions, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Gay For You, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, LGBTQ Character, Love Confessions, M/M, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Resolved Sexual Tension, Roommates, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Violence, Vomiting, Werewolf Derek, more accurate than usual depictions of first time sex, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1993998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/super_queer/pseuds/super_queer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(AU where there are very similar circumstances with the supernatural, but Scott was never bitten so Stiles doesn’t know about werewolves at all. Stiles programs video games for a living and Derek is a fire fighter.)</p><p>Stiles is 26 years old and still lives at home, he decides to move out after some prompting from his girlfriend, and finding 29 year old Derek because of an ad online. Stiles moves in with him as more and more strange things start to happen around town. People seem to be getting attacked by wild animals, and Derek seems to know more about these occurrences than the police.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I don’t date losers, Stilinski.”

“…Well that was blunt.” 

Stiles sighed and brought up a hand to scratch at his face. His fingertips traced over a mole and he silently resented its presence. Lydia Martin moved to fold her arms across her chest, and coupled with her malevolent expression, she looked truly menacing. He leaned back in his chair at the coffee shop, wincing minutely at the creak of wood against laminate. He noticed a woman enter from the door he was facing and bump softly into the adjacent table on her way to the counter. He raised his eyebrows as he watched her fumble while removing her sunglasses. _Wow._ She had officially untangled them from her hair and dropped them on the ground when he turned his attention back to the strawberry blonde woman across from him. 

Lydia continued to stare at him for another moment before squinting her eyes further, looking expectant. Stiles dropped his hand abruptly, letting it hang by his side uselessly, inches from scraping against the dusty area where the table and floor met. “Okay, what? What did I do?”

She rolled her eyes, eyelashes following her gaze in an identical succession, like wiper-blades across the space under her brow. “Stiles you are twenty-five-“

“Twenty-six.”

“-years old. Wait, what?” She pulled her head back in confusion, tilting it slightly to the side.

“Twenty-six. I’m twenty-six years old.” Stiles sighed and looked down at his feet, the sight of his shoes now infinitely more interesting than listening to the impeding lecture from his girlfriend. One of the laces of his converse had a sand spur on it. He made a mental note to get it later, for now he just toed at it with the other shoe.

Lydia sucked in her lips and popped them back out, the slickness of her lip-gloss creating a familiar sound. A sound Stiles had come to associate with boredom or disapproval. _Probably both right now._ “Whatever, twenty-six.” she said, “That is too old to still be living at home.”

Stiles looked at her with a hard expression. They’d been dating for almost two years now; she should know that Stiles is still at home because he wants to make sure his father is healthy. Stiles makes a point to keep fast food out of the house, limit alcohol, and take a short walk with him every other day at least. He frowned and wrapped his red hoodie closed around him, suddenly feeling exposed. 

Lydia sighed, watching him pick at the frayed end of the aglet on the pull string. “Hey, don’t freak out, okay? I talked to your dad about it. You’re ‘smothering’ him.” She emphasized with finger quotes. “Seems kind of backwards, shouldn’t the father be the asphyxiating one in the relationship?” She quipped, running freshly manicured fingers through her organized tousles of hair.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “You’re terrible. I do not ‘asphyxiate’ him! That is a term to mean literal chocking, Lydia.”

“No, shit, Stiles. That’s what he makes it sound like.” She leaned forward and settled her elbows on the table, folding her hands in an executive manner. “Okay, look,” her expression softened “I’m looking out for you, kid. He is a grown man, and was living on his own well before you came around. He can take care of himself. Don’t you think you’ve given enough?” Her eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t expect you to understand.” Stiles glared at the iced coffee in front of him, and swiped a thumb over where a pool of condensation had gathered. Slowly he brought his head down to take a sip from the straw. He felt cold hands envelop his around the cup and pull them away. When he straightened up again, he saw Lydia looking concerned for once.

“It’s time to move on, Stiles. He will be fine. And it’s not like you have to leave Beacon Hills or anything, but you just can’t stay there and mooch off him anymore.”

“I do not mooch!” he countered.

She silenced him by leaning across the table and pressing her lips against his. He groaned stiffly into the kiss, being that she ruined the intense sulk he was going for. She smiled against his mouth, feeling him melt against it, and planted a few more soft kisses before pulling back ever so slightly. “Do you like this, Stiles?” she murmured and kissed the corner of his mouth, before pulling in this bottom lip between her teeth and nibbling softly. 

“We’re in public…” Stiles managed to say in between kisses, although he didn’t really care. He began to shake softly with laughter as she continued to persuade him from across the table. 

“So? Do you like this?” she repeated.

“God, yes.” He breathed.

“Then…” she purred, lacing the fingers on one hand into his hair.

“Mmmm… Then?” he murmured back against her lips.

“Move. Out.” Lydia said firmly before roughly tugging at the patch of hair and scooping up her boyfriend’s coffee. She took a sip with a thoughtful look, as if pondering whether or not to take it, before standing up swiftly and making her exit, leaving Stiles sitting at the table. He sat there in shocked silence for a moment before tugging his sleeve down around his knuckles and wiping off the sickly-sweet lip-gloss Lydia left behind with the back of his hand.

\---

The steering wheel in his jeep had gone cold. At one time the surface was neatly wrapped with a cotton layer underneath a vinyl padding but it’d since worn down to the bare metal. Stiles parked in the driveway of his house quite a while ago after meeting with Lydia that afternoon. He was honestly getting a little sick of her quick getaways. He wasn’t entirely sure of how long it had been, he just knows that it got dark it the time it took him to make his decision. 

He wasn’t going anywhere. His dad needed him, right?

Stiles let his head fall softly against the wheel and enjoyed the feeling of the cold against his brewing headache. He had a lot to consider.

When Stiles was eight years old, he had to watch his mother pass away at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. She’d been getting worse and worse for months. Claudia Stilinski suffered from a rare form of dementia that caused her brain to gradually deteriorate. Stiles spent all of his free time with her at the hospital. His dad was the town sheriff at the time, and was deeply involved in a case that particular night. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be there with his wife and son. There was no way of knowing how much time she had left, so it’s not like he could have planned to be there to say goodbye. Although Stiles did, the Sherriff never forgave himself for not being there with him.

After that night, John Stilinski introduced more and more alcohol into his lifestyle. He stopped exercising, starting eating excess fast food for every meal, and became so depressed that he nearly lost his job. The condition of his heart suffered, and his son knew it was time to get him help. He refused outside influence of course, so it was up to Stiles to sneak the liquor out of the house and limit his dad’s intake of curly fries. The treatment wasn’t always received with enthusiasm, but Stiles knew it was for his own good and deep down, so did the sheriff. 

Over the years, Stiles has worked hard to pull his dad out of the state he was in. And he just doesn’t feel ready to go yet. He knows how hard it was to lose a third of their little family in one moment, so he just couldn’t leave him all alone.

Stiles popped the door of his jeep open and slid out into the cold night air. He gave the house he’d lived in his whole life a good look. The porch light was on, illuminating a path to the door, beckoning him to come inside and get warm. There was a small yard figurine of a fairy under a mushroom that his mom put out there many years back to the left of the door. He took a moment to appreciate its quaint appearance against the well-manicured yard space surrounding the sidewalk. The rest of the house and lawn was slightly lit by the moon that took up a generous portion of the night sky. 

Stiles knew that he really wanted to stay because he loved this place, loved the security, and being with his friends and family. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to go far if he did move. That way he could still keep an eye on his dad.

Truth be told he was just scared. Put off by the idea of being alone in a new place, or more likely with a roommate. A total stranger. Stiles had always been lead to believe that anyone out there could be a criminal. Probably because he spent so much time with his dad while he was solving cases.

Stiles shivered and zipped up his jacket to the very top as he made his way up to the front door. He turned the handle gingerly and crept over the threshold as quietly as he could, not knowing whether or not his dad would be asleep. The lights in the living room were out so Stiles just headed upstairs to his room. Upon reaching his door at the end of the hallway, he stopped and listened to the small noises coming from behind his father’s door. He turned and walked over towards the sound. There was a low flickering light coming through the crack around the perimeter of the door that Stiles recognized as his dad’s TV. 

After a couple knocks and an unenthused response saying he could come in, Stiles found John sitting on his bed, looking through piles of papers. He was holding some in his hands and the rest were scattered around him on his navy blue duvet. There were seemingly unsystematic stacks of manila folders and photos spanning across the empty spaces. It was making Stiles slightly uncomfortable, he wanted to scoop them all up and give the area some semblance of organization. He tried to ignore it for now and turned his attention back to John. His dad’s reading glasses were sitting far down the bridge of his nose, settling in to that space where they always were while reviewing police reports. The image was familiar; something Stiles would come home to ever so often before his dad became a private investigator. The only difference was that the older man’s face was now more laden with wrinkles and, his hair had more touches of grey. Stiles just saw the same old cop.

His dad loved being sheriff, but decided that as he got older, he just wanted a slower paced job, but didn’t want to leave the law enforcement field entirely. So now he just handles investigating special cases without putting himself in the line of fire.

It seemed that the older man was watching the local news. Stiles was having a hard time focusing on the droning voices of the newscasters, he didn’t see how anyone could. He glanced around the room for a moment before remembering some more important matters.

“Whatcha up to?” he asked as he stepped into the room.

“Oh, just figuring something out.” John looked up from his work and squinted, adjusting to the image of his son entering the room. Stiles took a couple steps in and leaned his back against the wall, a small look of disappointment on his face. “What’s up, kid?” his dad asked while taking off his glasses, folding them neatly and setting them down on the nightstand to his right.

“Do you want me to move out, dad?” 

The other man looked shocked. “Jeez, who gave you that idea?”

“Lydia.”

John sighed as his eyes jotted around to different stacks of paper and then back to his son. “Well, it’s not like I don’t love having you around the place, because trust me, I do. I just think it might be time for you to move on. Get started with your life. You’re young, you’ve got a good job, a good girlfriend. You have your education; you should have no problem finding a place. Don’t worry, your old man can take care of himself.”

The people on TV continued to be worthless background noise that Stiles wanted to drown out. He glared at the screen as a particularly plastic looking woman was talking about a car accident that happened that day and about how ‘strange’ it was. It seemed that ‘strange’ things were always happening in Beacon Hills. She was obviously outside but it seemed that her hair had so much product in it that it didn’t blow in the wind. 

Stiles looked down at his shoes. The sand spur was still on his laces. “Dad, I don’t-“

“Stiles. I ate a bowl of cucumbers today. Me- cucumbers. Seriously, just because I wanted to. Completely by my own accord. I’ll be fine here.” He gave a sad smile. “I want you to live a full life; don’t let me hold you back. I’m alright. Really.” The older man shuffled some papers awkwardly and sighed, prompting Stiles to pick his head back up, “I should have never put the pressure on you at such a young age. Your mother died, and you needed me. Not some drunk you had to babysit. And I’m so sorry about that. I know that there’s no way I can make it up to you. But it’s over now. Go on and have fun.”

Stiles of course knew his dad was sorry, but it was just something that was hard for the older man to say. He didn’t share his feelings very easily. _Well this got heavy real fast._

Either way, his dad was probably right. It was time for them to both be adults, and go their separate ways. Stiles smiled at his dad weakly and straightened up; he didn’t want this mood to loom. “Okay, dad, knock it off with the feelings time.”

Mr. Stilinski gave his son a wide grin and began sifting through papers again. “So what’s your plan, kid?”

Stiles cringed, “I’ll have to find a roommate. With my luck I’ll probably end up with some dude who collects taxidermy animals and gives them all names. And attends conventions. And won’t let me use the oven…” _And thinks they respond to his questions, and goes on online forums for likeminded people. ___He continued to think about dead squirrels until he realized he was staring at the wall with a disturbed look on his face and not talking. He snapped out of it and rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers.

John laughed, “Why? You can’t live with Scott, or Lydia even?” 

_I wish it was that easy._ If there was anything good to come out of his time at the hospital it was Melissa McCall. She kept an eye on him for the sheriff, and after a while started bringing her own son, Scott, around so Stiles didn’t have to be alone. He heard that once or twice she traded shifts to spend more time with the boys. Scott went to Stiles’ school before that but they never really talked. Over time Scott became his best friend. They remained together in middle, high school, and even college. Scott was always there for him. But unfortunately for Stiles, he’d had actually gotten a move on with his life. 

“Nah, Scott’s engaged so it’s kinda weird to third wheel with him and Kira on a more permanent type basis.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “And what place within my budget would I find a big enough closet for Lydia?” 

His dad just stared at him and deadpanned, “There’s no bigger reason? One that actually makes sense?” 

Stiles paused and thought about his situation. He continued to silently hate the car accident woman as she began taking to some eye witnesses. 

Finally, he walked over to the television and turned the volume down a decent amount to not be distracting. He didn’t get how his dad cold always multitask work and outside noises. Stiles sat down on the opposite end of the bed where there weren’t any files, but kept his gaze in his lap rather than towards his father. “It’s hard to know what Lydia wants sometimes. She tends to be off in her own world. Today she said ‘I don’t date losers’ so I’m really feeling that even after two years she still thinks of me as a replaceable accessory that she just totes around sometimes.” 

John frowned. “That can’t be true, Lydia’s such a nice girl. I wonder if she’s just a bit closed off from people in general. I’m sure she loves you.” He stood up and walked around the corner of the bed to put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. 

Stiles looked and smiled unenthusiastically. “I guess, dad, thanks.” He patted the back of his dad’s hand before standing up and taking a deep breath. “Well, I guess I have to find a potentially criminal-esque stranger to live in the same house with. Should be fun.” 

His father rolled his eyes. “Don’t try to make me feel bad for you, it won’t work. I’ll give whoever you find a thorough background check, stop being dramatic.” 

Stiles flashed him a cheeky grin. “I really don’t foresee that ever happening.” And on that note, spun on his heel and trudged into his own bedroom. 

Once inside, he lazily pulled the string on his ceiling fan to wash the room with light. He glared momentarily at the stack of character files from the game he was programming currently. _Worrrrrrrkk…_ Stiles rendered final looks for characters in video games along with textures for other more detailed aspects in overworlds. His gaze transcended past the papers and bins to headsets and tablets with neatly coiled cables and finally landed on his main monitor. _I guess that’s where I should start._

His room was freezing so he proceeded with his normal ritual of taking the blanket off his bed, wrapping it around his swivel chair, climbing into the seat, and taking a secondary blanket and draping that over the front of his body. He scooted weakly, like a caterpillar, up to his computer and awoke it by wiggling the mouse. He proceeded to do some research about local apartment complexes and low rent spaces. 

After not finding much, he tried to find an easy way out. He figured he should maybe find a person that already had a place and just needed someone to help pay the bills, so he went on Craig’s List. The mere thought terrified him. After scrolling along on there for a while he found what he was looking for. 

“In need of a roommate. Loft space, open floor plan, balcony, two stories.” _Riveting description_ “Need someone to help out with rent, split utilites, etc.” The place was in Beacon Hills, which was a plus. But scrolling through the pictures, it didn’t seem like anyone actually lived there. Like, there was no furniture, or paint on the walls, or electricity, seemingly. Stiles figured that maybe they were just pictures he took before this guy got settled. The loft was giant, way too much space for just one person, surely. _This guy basically needs me, he’s all alone._

Stiles figured that this place was worth a real shot, it looked really cool. There were thick pillars, winding steps and sunken floors, it was just too interesting to pass up. He found his way on to the advertisers profile to do some more research. His username was DRKHL13, and the page said he was 29 years old and worked at The Beacon Hills Fire Department. Stiles had been around the people that worked there a couple times when his dad was sheriff. The name even seemed slightly familiar. Derek Hale. However, upon further inspection he found that he’s never seen this guy before. 

His profile picture was so… assertive. The man had thick black hair that was spiked up slightly, olive skin, a light beard, and an expression that was less than welcoming. It wasn’t really saying, ‘Please live with me, I _won’t_ kill you in your sleep.’ Most notably, he had piercing green irises that stood out against his rather dark inset eyes. He just looked so… _sturdy?_ Definitely muscular, probably good at his job. He was also very handsome. Stiles momentarily wondered if he’d accidently clicked on someone’s page that was advertising their modeling services. 

All in all, there was just something about him that Stiles was drawn too. Stiles finished taking some notes for his dad and some personal info about this stranger he had for some reason decided he wanted to live with before calling it a night. Hopefully he’d find out why he’d recognized the name soon. 

He shut down his computer and tightly wrapped the blankets around his body, gripping the edges he could reach. He swiveled towards his bed and wriggled closer to it so he only had to take one hop from the chair until he landed in bed. After some thrashing he was lying warm and cozy on his back, thinking of his potential new roommate. 

Hopefully this Derek Hale person was a good guy. 


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles walked his dad through all the information he found the night prior. John sat at his son’s desk and looked at the picture of Derek. His hand sat over his mouth and nose, fingers pinching the bridge. He swiped it down is face and sighed.

“…I thought you wanted to _avoid_ rooming with a criminal?” John clicked around on Derek’s profile. Stiles stood behind him with his arms folded, leaning over his dad’s shoulder.

Stiles rolled his eyes and pointed towards the bio with a long, slightly bony finger. “He’s not a criminal, he _saves lives_. And haven’t you heard that name before?” _It’s so freaking familiar._

“What, at the police station?” The older man turned to look over his shoulder at his son’s questioning face. He gave a look of exasperation that Stiles was all too used to. Stiles adjusted his stance and set his jaw, trying to look serious.

“Maybe not as an employee though, but for some other reason.” Stiles tried to rack his brain again for a reason the name had such familiarity to him. He knows it wasn’t something he heard recently, and he didn’t feel like Derek had done anything bad, but there was definitely an uneasiness and intrigue when he thought about it. _Maybe something bad happened_ to _him._

“Well I’ll look into it, but I can’t promise anything.” John said, as he pushed against the desk, sending the chair rolling back at a slow pace, creaking as it slid. He stood up slowly and leaned slightly left and right to stretch out his back. “Otherwise he seems like an okay guy, and he lives very close. Let him know I have a gun.” He smiled curtly and sarcastically like he did so often, brushed past Stiles and headed out of the small bedroom. 

Stiles just smiled in a giddy and childish way as if he had just won something. He plopped back down into the pleather upholstered chair causing a _woosh_ of air to come out from the quickly compressed seat. He spun around and scooted up to the monitor, bumping his knee hard against a support, but ignoring the pain for now. He was just so excited to find out more about this guy. Stiles loved him some research. But first he had to take Derek up on his offer.

Stiles composed him a brief message:

_TO: DRKHL13  
FROM: THESTILINSKI2424_

_Hey, Derek, my name is Stiles Stilinski._

_I’ve been looking for a roommate and an apartment, your place seems pretty appealing. If you’re still in need of one yourself, I was hoping that I could take you up on your offer. I live in Beacon Hills right now as well, and if you wanted to meet me in person I’m sure we could work something out. I work in game design and programming, so I have a lot of computer monitors, different systems, and especially cables and wires. I just have deadlines for projects instead of regular hours. That’s really the only outlandish thing I can think of right now about my living habits; I hope that won’t be an issue._

_I’m looking forward to meeting you, as long as you actually want to meet me._

_Thanks._

Stiles has learned throughout his twenty-six years of existence that one must release their own crazy in small, well timed, and especially well spaced out bursts. So he kept his letter concise and bland. He sent the message, along with a quick prayer that he appeared cool, really hoping the response would be positive and he would get to live in the super cool loft. Mainly he didn’t want to keep searching for places, which would require effort he wasn’t prepared to sacrifice at that moment. 

Stiles is one of those people who will refresh their email every fifteen minutes or so and subject themselves to the building anxiety associated with putting their words into the world and not having them replied to ASAP. After about an hour he began to think he’d sent the note to the wrong person, or maybe Derek had already found a roomie. His face flushed uncomfortably at the thought of either.

To try to get his mind off it he decided to get some work done. He opened up some files and worked on a girl character that reminded him immensely of Lara Croft, but he was getting paid to make her look good in the environment, so he trudged on. He really preferred designing the characters himself. He found that all too often characters start to all look the same and he yearned to make something fresh. However, money’s a big goal of his, so texture, texture, texture. _This pseudo Lara Croft is going to look fucking fantastic when I’m through with her._

After putting a few layers onto the base he was sent, he heard a small chime, indicating that he had received an email. The speed that Stiles stopped what he was doing and opened the message was truly olympic. 

_Please say yes, please say yes._ Stiles chanted as he began to read.

_TO: THESTILINSKI2424  
FROM: DRKHL13_

_Hello, Stiles. Yes, I am still looking for a roommate. The gaming stuff shouldn’t be an issue, you’ll have your own room, and there’s not much furniture in the living room so you can use that space if you wish. We can meet beforehand if that is what you would prefer. Seeing that you said you don’t have a regular schedule, how about tomorrow? You could check out the place for yourself. Noon?_

_Derek Hale_

The relief flooded over Stiles as he read what Derek wrote. He composed a quick reply thanking Derek again and agreeing to meet him. They also exchanged some other contact information like phone numbers and websites (Well Stiles sent him websites; Derek didn’t even have a Facebook to send back to Stiles). When he was finished Stiles leaned back in his chair and smiled, but almost flipped it over backwards when there was an unanticipated knock on his door. He regained composure as his dad entered the room.

John stayed in the doorway and leaned against the frame. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his jeans. “So I found some old reports with Derek’s name on them, but I’ll need to go to the station to get a case file for whatever happened. He was definitely involved in something.” 

Stiles stomach dropped and he began worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

Sensing the discomfort John said, “It doesn’t mean he did anything wrong. If he had it would be a lot easier to find information about him. I think he was just close to a situation, and he’s defiantly moved on from the incident. I called the fire station and they say he’s one of the best they’ve ever had. I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

Stiles nodded, trying to convince himself that he’s not just set up a meeting with an ex-convict.

John removed a hand from his pocket and gestured behind him into the hallway. “So I’m gonna head over there, be back in a bit.” He backed away and left as Stiles weakly said goodbye. He wondered if maybe he should just ask Derek himself. But the fact that his dad is already stalking him seems invasive enough. At some point it feels like It’s gone beyond a friendly background check.

He’d keep that to himself forever. 

Stiles fished around in his pocket for his cell phone and flipped through the contacts to call Lydia. He held the phone up to his ear and bit the nails on the other hand.

He was exited to give her the relationship saving news, after all, it was quite a journey to start dating in the first place. A journey Stiles wasn’t willing to give up on.

“Hello?” Lydia answered, clipped and vaguely unamused.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?” Stiles switched his chewing to the side of a different nail.

“Um. Nothing, what are you doing?”

“I just found a place to live. A loft even.” Lydia could probably hear the smile over the phone. Stiles was downright thrilled.

“Wow, Stiles, that was… fast!” she seemed pretty shocked. “I didn’t think that you would do that…”

_Well that’s irritating, and it’s too late now._

Stiles sat straight up in his chair and dropped his hand into his lap. “Are you _upset_ now? _You’re_ the one who called me a loser. As in the kind of person you don’t date.”

“Stiles-“

“Because you were right, you know... I need to get on with my life.” He said with more resignation. “I wanted to do it because you wanted me to.”

They were both silent for a moment. Stiles would do anything for Lydia.

“I want you to be happy.” He took a deep breath. “You know I won’t stop trying to be what you need.” Stiles said a lot quieter. 

“I know Stiles, you’re an amazing guy.” She said, matching his level.

“I just- I love you, Lydia.” _So, so much._

“Me too.” Stiles heard rustling in the background. “I’ve got to go, Stiles. I need to leave for work, but I want to hear all about your plans. Come to my place tomorrow, okay?” She lowered her voice and purred sensually, “I’ll return the favor. Seven?” Stiles’ mouth went dry. It was moments like this where he remembered why he was so captivated by her in the first place. He was completely under her control.

“Oh, okay, yeah t-that sounds uh- great. Yeah, great.” Stiles was nodding vigorously even though no one could see him. “Seven. I’ll be there.” He swallowed audibly and then cringed at how high his voice sounded.

“Bye, sweetie.” Lydia said harmoniously. She could play him like a fiddle and she knew it.

Stiles said goodbye like a young girl who was just talking to the most popular boy at school in some Disney channel show, airy and soft. He did however; find it in him not to giggle after he hung up the phone.

_Tomorrow's going to be awesome._

Stiles set his phone on the desk in front of him and readjusted his way of sitting in his chair. He found he needed to accommodate to some new found pressure down south after his conversation with Lydia. He cursed himself for still having the anatomy of his fifteen year old self.

He considered his options about jerking off but thought better of it as a flash of light caught his attention.

The computer screen went black from the inactivity, which reminded Stiles that he still had some work to do. He scooted his chair closer to the desk and focused on getting some more work done, rather than thinking about what was going to happen with Lydia.

He worked on the project for about thirty minutes before he heard a knock at the door. His dad was in the doorway again. Stiles pushed away from his desk again to face his dad, head still clouded with thoughts.

However, he was relieved by the distraction. His father was holding what Stiles recognized to be a case file that was marked as ‘Unsolved: October, 1999’. He held in up so his son could see it better by twisting his wrist around and pressing the folder against his chest. 

“Hey, dad, what did you find?” He set the headset down that was previously around his head so he could dedicate his full attention to his father.

“I found Derek Hale.” John waived the folder slightly to indicate the thickness of its contents.

Stiles eyes widened. “Jesus, what happened?” Stiles stood up and took as step towards his dad, while John entered the room further and extended the case file to his son. Stiles opened it any frantically flipped through photos pinned to the top in front of the paperwork. The first bunch were of people, majority labeled ‘deceased’. He found Derek’s picture, which was of him looking much younger, but with the same angsty expression. It was one of two photos that didn’t say anything on them. Stiles was momentarily relieved that the case files wasn’t telling him that he had been emailing a ghost. The only other person that wasn’t deceased from the incident was named Laura Hale. Upon further inspection Stiles found that all the people looked alike and had the same last name. Almost Derek’s whole family was dead. _How did this happen?_

Stiles continued to flip through images until he got to one of a large old house. It was old looking in general, surrounded by winter barren trees and a white sky. The house looked as if was falling apart. Windows were broken, the wood siding was blackened and peeling off as if it was burned-

And then it hit him.

“Oh.” Stiles said softly as he realized who Derek Hale was.

When Stiles was eleven and his dad was still Sheriff, there was always this one case that the department could never solve. They just called it the ‘Hale House Fire’, an entire family was trapped inside a house while it burnt them alive, all except two of the many children that lived there. One being Derek. Stiles remembered seeing him at the station once or twice, because child services always had to keep shifting his sister and him around in foster homes. They always looked so crushed.

Stiles felt the familiar sadness pool in his stomach. Stiles knew what it felt like to lose someone close, but nearly everyone? He couldn’t imagine the pain. 

Stiles closed the folder and handed it back to his father. He didn’t have to read all the documents; he knew the case fairly well. He actually tried pretty hard to help his dad solve it all those years ago. However, the fire seemed to have been started by someone highly trained and good at covering their tracks. Stiles remembers being told that it was no accident, since after the investigation of the property, there was nothing found that would lead them to that conclusion.

Stiles found it very interesting and noble that Derek became a fireman. _I guess he doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing._

Stiles looked up at his dad, “…I remember Derek now.”

The older man nodded sadly. “Yeah, me too.” He tucked the file under his arm. “But what I’m wondering is, what happened to his sister? I would think that they’d want to live together. I remember that if they were placed in separate homes for any length of time, they acted up and got transferred.” 

Stiles shrugged. “I hope nothing bad. I hope he’s okay, anyway.” Stiles proceeded to tell his dad that he and Derek talked earlier about arrangements. 

“So, you’re just meeting him tomorrow, right? You’re not going to just move in.” his father narrowed his eyes.

“Uh, yeah. Why? I thought you approved?” Stiles folded his arms across his chest and turned his head to one side slightly. “We know him already. For like fifteen years apparently.”

John sighed. “He’s been through a lot, Stiles. I don’t know if he’s still… still…”

Stiles rolled his eyes. He didn’t feel threatened or uneasy about Derek in the slightest anymore. “Still what, dad?” 

“Still damaged.” The other man said sternly. “You don’t need to be taking care of another broken shell of a man, okay, Stiles?” he almost barked.

Stiles shifted to curl his arms around his body in a more defensive position as if he was suddenly cold. He dropped his gaze to the floor and swallowed. He wasn’t wearing shoes and he focused on the feeling of his socks against the hard floor, pushing back more on his heels. 

John shifted his stance, “I’m only saying this because I’m concerned about you. I know you’re all grown up, and you can handle yourself, I’m just- I don’t want you to have to go through this all again. Because then what are you really moving on from?” His voice slowly became more civil and resigned. John patted his son on the shoulder and looked at him sadly as Stiles lifted his head back up. “Be careful, okay?” Stiles nodded.

His father smiled softly and exited the room again. 

Stiles brought his hands up and rubbed his face, then threaded his fingers through his hair. He walked over to the door and shut it softly before turning and walking to his bed. He plopped down onto it heavily, and laid back against the pillows. 

Stiles had a naturally caring personality. It wouldn’t matter to him if Derek needed someone. Needed him. Stiles liked being useful to other people. It made him feel necessary in his relationships. 

Stiles fished his phone out of his pocket and flipped through the contacts. He settled on the newest one and composed a message, holding his arms above his head since he was flat on his back. 

_Hey, Derek. Want to meet tonight instead?_

He loved his dad, but at that moment he needed to get out as soon as he could. Stiles set his phone on his chest and closed his eyes. He was eager to see Derek… again. He wondered if Derek would remember him from all those years ago.

Stiles hoped Derek wasn’t a slow texter and was going to put him in the same situation as earlier, but no sooner than that thought crossed his mind, his phone buzzed with a reply.

_Sure._


	3. Chapter 3

Derek agreed to meet Stiles at his loft that night. Stiles didn’t realize how nerve-racking it was going to be for him until he looked in the mirror. His hair was messy due to the bedhead that he never bothered with that morning. He was wearing his favorite shirt, an old faded graphic tee with C-3PO on it, generously adorned with stains and small holes. 

He decided after some thought that it was probably best to just take a shower and start from scratch. He dressed in a button down Payne’s gray shirt and jeans, and slipped on a cotton moto jacket for the cold. He left the house about fifteen minutes before he was supposed to arrive at the loft, and didn’t tell his dad where he was going. 

He started the jeep and pulled out of the driveway, his phone in the passenger seat telling him the directions. Stiles arrived at a massive gray complex with rusted fixtures, and a tall perimeter fence. It looked like a maximum security correctional facility. He slowly pulled through the gate and into a parking spot close to the entrance to the complex. Stiles stared ahead of him into the small window that adorned the thick, metal door. He shifted in his seat, not quite ready to exit his car. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and fiddled with them in his right hand, lightly tossing them off his palm.

Regardless of how much like the beginning of a horror movie this was, Stiles took a deep breath, pocketed his keys and stepped out of his jeep. His breath was visible as he exhaled, and he focused on the small click of his heels against the pavement as he walked up to the door. The handle was cold and dusty as he heaved the door open. He found himself in a narrow hallway with a single flickering light overhead and gray chipping wallpaper. He took in the heavy scent of chemicals as he noticed he was not alone. There was an older man towards the opposite end of the hallway wearing a faded navy jumpsuit and slowly mopping up something on the barren concrete floor. 

Stiles was startled by the man and quickly looked for an exit to the hallway that would lead to his destination. He gingerly crept along the path towards the older man, noticing that the lift he needed to use was just across from where he was working. 

The man picked up his head, hearing Stiles squeak around on his freshly mopped floor. As Stiles got closer he noticed more about the vaguely disturbing janitor. His eyes were clouded over with a thin white film, eyelids heavy and red. His face was ornamented with fine lines and wrinkles, broken up with small scars and dark age spots. His skin was vaguely yellow and sickly and it set Stiles teeth on edge. 

Right as Stiles reached the lift the old man smiled at him. His teeth were stained yellow and brown and he shuffled right into Stiles’ personal space and said, “I’ve never seen you around, boy. You lost?” Stiles backed into the wall involuntarily and felt the button he needed to push to open the doors. He wiggled a hand behind his torso and pressed the button, taking in the scent of whiskey and cigarette breath from the stranger. Stiles smiled weakly as he shuffled to the side, out of the way of the man when he heard the door squeak open. 

“I’m good, thanks.” Stiles tried not to make it look like he was running inside and violently pushing the close door button, when that was in fact what he was doing. As the doors came to a close he saw the old man smile again and chuckle softly, before coughing hoarsely and returning to work. Stiles leaned against the wall of the elevator and breathed in and out slowly. He was hoping nothing else would freak him out. He still really wanted to live in the loft. _Did I come to the wrong place?_

The lift stopped abruptly and the doors squeaked back open again. Stiles walked speedily out and looked around. He spun in a small circle, taking in the new hallway he was in. This one didn’t have electronic lights at all. It was just bathed in the soft glow from the moon through the two floor-to-ceiling windows on either end of the hallway. It was quiet and he could still hear the faint hacking from downstairs. He shivered and kept his eye on the elevator doors and backed up. He took a few steps before turning around and running into something hard.

Stiles regained his composure and faced what- or rather _who_ \- he had just run into. He found himself staring at a rather large pair of pecks and gently protruding collar bone, thinly veiled by a tight maroon t-shirt. He let his gaze travel up to the head attached to the incredibly toned body. _Jesus. He’s prettier in person._

Derek fidgeted slightly and pursed his lips as if being roughly slammed into was nothing but a minor inconvenience. He fixed his green eyes on Stiles and tilted his head slightly to the side. The younger man was momentarily dazed but snapped out of it and adjusted his jacket awkwardly. “S-sorry.” He cringed inwardly at his ability to make such a fantastic first impression. He was however relieved that it was Derek instead of some other person dwelling in the building. 

Derek nodded curly. “What took you so long down there?”

 _Well it’s nice to meet you, too._ Stiles laughed nervously, “What, could you hear me?” He swallowed.

Derek just blinked. 

_Well this is going great._ Stiles looked down at his feet. He slid his hands into his jacket pockets and tilted his chin back up to look back into the taller man’s piercing eyes. “…So?” He furrowed his brows, hoping Derek was still willing to be his roommate after this horrific meeting.

Derek’s mouth tugged up slightly at the corners in vague amusement. “Come on. It’s this way.” Derek turned around and began walking down the hallway. Stiles sighed and followed him closely as if he was a shield. He narrowly avoided running into him a second time when Derek stopped short in front of a huge wall. Well, it looked like a wall. Derek took hold of a long handle on the wall and pulled it hard, muscles rippling under his shirt as the slab slid open, revealing his place. 

Stiles stepped over the threshold as Derek gestured for him to enter. He took a step down into the living room space and looked around. It was exactly as pictured. No wall coverings, no furniture, no lights. There was a massive window across from the door that let in the moonlight like in the hallway. Stiles heard Derek slide the door shut and walk up behind him. 

Stile figured he should be scared. This place didn’t exactly rub him the right way, but there was just something serene and fascinating about the loft itself. He also figured if Derek was going to kill him, he would have done something already. Stiles wandered slowly towards a spiral staircase and slowly ascended it, Derek following closely. Stiles was fascinated by the simplicity of this place. He followed the curve of the staircase as it lead him into a hallway containing two rooms and a bathroom. 

Derek pointed out what room would be Stiles’. It was unsurprisingly another large gray room with an enormous window. Stiles continued his trek of the house, occasionally looking back at Derek for approval before he entered a new area. Back down stairs, he found the kitchen, dining room, and another bathroom. Everything looked pristine and untouched, like no one lived there. The only real evidence that someone had been in there was in Derek’s room there was a king sized bed, tightly wrapped in silky maroon sheets, and in the dining room there was an old wooden table and a couple mis-matched chairs. 

Stiles let his hand slide across the top of the table and walked down the length of it. He looked up at Derek who was eyeing him with curiosity from the opposite end of the table. Stiles smiled up at him. “This place is really cool, dude.”

Derek’s face softened slightly. From the twenty minutes Stiles had been with him, Stiles noticed he had a habit of looking constipated. Derek took a step closer to his end of the table. “So you want to move in?”

Stiles smiled and said sarcastically, “Yeah, as long as that guy downstairs isn’t always there. He was freakin’ creepy.” 

Derek looked confused. “What guy?”

Stiles cocked his head to one side. “You know, the janitor dude. Really old, white eyes, bad teeth.”

Derek looked concerned. “There’s no janitor here. The last one died like four years ago of TB. People were always complaining of his cough.”

All the color flooded out of Stiles face and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth but no noise came out. _Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit._

Derek continued to stare at Stiles with concern for a moment before cracking a smile. “I’m kidding, Stiles! That’s Monty, he only works at night. He’s completely harmless. He just has to get really close to you when he talks because he can’t see very well. I’m not entirely sure why he hasn’t retired yet, but he’s not a ghost.” Derek’s shoulders bobbed softly with laughter. “Wow, you’re gullible. That’s good to know.” Derek sat down in the chair closest to him. He gestured for Stiles to sit down, no longer smiling, just a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Stiles furrowed his brows and sat down slowly. “What the fuck?” He said softly and gave himself a moment to recover before facing Derek. _At least he has a sense of humor._

Derek proceeded to tell Stiles more about the place, rates he’d have to pay, and his living habits. Stiles focused on the way Derek’s gaze never left his, and how he held himself straight and his hands on the table. Stiles thought about his own posture and sat up straighter. Derek held himself like he had been in the army, Stiles figured that it was because he was a firefighter. Derek didn’t live outlandishly. He made it seem like he’d just mind his own business as long as Stiles helped pay for stuff.

“…So, when can you move in?” Derek asked. 

Stiles thought about it. “Basically whenever, but I think my dad wants to meet you first and make sure you’re not going to kill me.” Stiles grinned awkwardly, hoping he wasn’t giving him any ideas.

Derek’s face remained blank, “Okay, who’s your dad?”

“John Stilinski. He’s a private investigator.”

Derek’s eyes widened and he leaned forward. “John Stilinski. As in _Sheriff_ John Stilinski?” 

Stiles nodded slowly.

“Oh.” Derek looked down at his hands.

“Yeah.”

“So that makes you-“

“Yeah.” Stiles smiled shyly. “I guess we knew each other already.” Stiles worried his lip and looked at Derek sheepishly. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Derek looked up quickly. “No, no of course not.” He looked stunned.

“Because I don’t want to you to be reminded of something every time you look at me-”

“Stiles.” Derek said a bit more forcefully. “It’s fine.” Derek stood up and walked over toward the living room. Stiles stalled momentarily before following his lead. Stiles decided not to say anything else unless he was asked to. Derek turned to look at Stiles, the moonlight illuminating his face. He looked so… vulnerable. “…Can I meet him now? Is it too late?”

Stiles furrowed his brows. “Uh.” He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his watch. _8:46_ “He’s probably still up. But why?” He looked back up at Derek and dropped his hand to his side allowing the sleeve to fall back down.

Derek shook his head, still looking stunned. “I’ve been meaning to speak to him. I went to the station a few years ago and they had a new sheriff.”

The shorter man shifted his stance. “Shall we, then?” Stiles took a couple steps towards the door. Derek watched him try to heave the door open. Stiles pulled for a few moments before giving up. He had an entertained expression on his face. Stiles faced him, exasperated, “I don’t know if I can live here if I can’t even open this door.”

Derek smiled and walked over to the younger man. He placed his hand on the handle above Stiles’ and leaned in towards his shoulder, never taking his eyes off of Stiles’. He could smell Derek’s cologne from this close and tried not to feel uncomfortable. He felt Derek tap his hand with his own and Stiles let go of the handle. Stiles inhaled sharply when Derek’s other hand brushed his arm on the way to the handle. He heard a soft click and Derek grinned. “It was locked, Stiles.” He said softly and pulled the door open effortlessly. 

Stiles blinked a few times and scooted past Derek into the hallway. Derek grabbed a jacket off a hook by the door and exited, pulling the door shut again and locking it. He put his arms through the holes and shifted the jacket so it draped over his broad shoulders. He walked Stiles over to the elevator and pressed Level One. Stiles shivered at the idea of seeing Monty again.

The doors opened and the two men stepped out of the lift. Stiles almost stopped walking, seeing Monty on a ladder screwing in a new light bulb, but trudged on after Derek rolled his eyes at him. Derek nodded at the old man as they passed him. “Goodnight, boys.” Stiles jumped slightly and turned around, seeing Monty smiling at him again. He heard the door click behind him, and turned to follow Derek, who was holding it open and looking at him expectantly. Stiles passed him swiftly as Monty began to cough. Derek raised his eyebrows with amusement at the young freckled man as he scuttled past. 

The night had gotten colder and Stiles wrapped his jacket around himself tighter. He shoved his hand in his pocket to retrieve his keys.

“I’ll follow you, then?” Stiles heard Derek say beside him. He was pulling a set of keys out of his own pocket. Stiles nodded at him as Derek clicked the unlock button, causing a pair of lights on a black Camaro a few spaces away from the jeep. Stiles raised his brows, impressed, and climbed into his rickety old vehicle.

Stiles pulled out and headed for home. He decided it would probably be best to warm his dad about the visitor. At a stop light he dialed John’s number and pressed the phone to his ear. 

“Hello.” _Phew._ It didn’t sound like he had woken him up.

“Sup, dad, what are you up to?”

“More of the same. Where you been?”

“Well, I went over to Derek’s house.”

“Hmmm. What happened to seeing him tomorrow?”

Stiles shifted so that the phone was cradled between his shoulder and his ear so he could drive with both hands. “Well. I got antsy. Anyway, he wants to meet you.”

“Well, that’s fine. When?”

Stiles looked at a street sign through the window and in the rear view mirror at Derek. “Like ten minutes.”

He heard shuffling on the other line. “Jeez, kid. Give me some warning, here.”

“Sorry, dad.” Stiles put the phone back in his hand because it had started to slide off his shoulder. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He said goodbye to his dad and tossed the phone into the passenger seat. After a little while he pulled into the driveway of his dad’s house and shut off the jeep. He picked up his phone and slid out of the car. Derek pulled in behind him and got out of his car a little more elegantly than Stiles had. 

Stiles stood in place until Derek reached where he was standing. He turned when he heard the front door open. John stepped outside and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Stiles took a deep breath and led Derek to his dad. “So, Derek, this is my dad, John. Dad, this is Derek.” He gestured between them as he said their names. 

Derek straightened a bit more and kept his expression hard as he held out his hand to John. “It’s good to see you again, sir.” John took his hand and shook it firmly.

“It’s been a while. You’re definitely a lot taller.” John chucked softy and Derek smiled with shyness that Stiles was not yet used to. John moved out of the doorway and beckoned the men to enter the house. “So, Derek, tell me about this roommate situation.” John said as he shut the door behind them. 

Derek looked at Stiles briefly before looking back at the former sheriff. “Actually sir, I was wondering if we could talk in private.” Stiles furrowed his brows and looked between the two other men.

John nodded and began to lead Derek towards the kitchen. “Stiles, go wait outside.” He called over his shoulder. Stiles rolled his eyes, and Derek stopped to look at him, confused. John turned and put his hand on Derek’s shoulder, “It’s the only way he won’t listen in, trust me.” They kept walking until they were out of Stiles’ line of sight. The young man frowned and grabbed a blanket off the couch before heading back outside. Stiles shut the door behind him and sighed. He zipped up his jacket and tucked the blanket around himself before sitting on the steps in front of him. 

He tried to ignore the chilly November air in vain. To pass the time he intermittently texted Lydia and played solitaire on his phone. After a good fifteen minutes, the door clicked open. Stiles turned and saw Derek step outside, closing the door behind him. He watched the taller man walk forward and sit down on the stairs next to Stiles.

Stiles face was flushed from the cold and he pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “Aren’t you cold?” he asked. Derek shook his head. “What were you guy’s talking about?”

Derek stretched out one leg and linked his arms around his bent knee. He looked straight ahead and said, “Nothing.”

“So I sat out here forever while you talked about nothing.” Stiles deadpanned.

Derek half smiled and faced Stiles. “I just needed to thank him. For all he did for my sister and me.”

Stiles looked down at his blanket-clad knees. “So, what happened to Laura?” He looked back at Derek slowly. “If you don’t mind me asking.” He quickly added.

Derek’s eyes narrowed, “Why would I mind?”

Stiles licked his lips as they began to chap from the cold. “Well, you know. You guys were close and… I don’t know what or when it happened… uhm…” Stiles left his mouth open as he didn’t even know what he was trying to say.

Derek’s face turned to realization. “Do you think she’s dead? She just got married.” He looked at Stiles with interest as the younger man’s eyes and mouth slid shut.

“Wow. I’m dumb.” Stiles rubbed his hands over his face through the blanket to try and warm up slightly. 

Derek smiled briefly and stood up. He held out a hand for Stiles, who took it and shakily stood, trying not to drop anything. “Well, I’ll be off then. Your dad approved you moving in.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a key, and handed it to Stiles. 

Stiles took it and gave Derek a quizzical look. “You’re sure? I’m just some guy you met on the internet. I could be totally insane for all you know. You hear about this stuff all the time on the news, people meeting up with people from online and before you know it someone gets stabbed in the neck and-” Derek set his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, quieting him.

“No, Stiles. I can tell you’re one of the good ones.”


	4. Chapter 4

As expected, Lydia was very grateful.

The two slotted together comfortably in her bed, Stiles lazily running his fingers through his girlfriend’s hair. She shifted softly in her sleep and pressed her back further into Stiles’ chest. Her skin was warm against his as he closed his eyes, taking in the sweet smell of her perfume and bedding detergent. He dropped his hand from her hair and lightly traced over her shoulder, past her ribs and down the slope of her waist. 

Stiles took one more scope of the room, filled with evidence of the couple’s activities. The moonlight illuminated the roughly discarded clothes and throw pillows around what would be a usually neatly kept room. Stiles’ hand continued traveling around her waist, draping over it entirely with his arm and letting his hand lay on the sheets in front of her. He nuzzled his face in closer to the crook of Lydia’s neck, and drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, when he awoke again, he was holding nothing. Stiles rolled over onto his back and exhaled irritably, staring up at the ceiling. He let his hand roam softly to where Lydia should be, and felt nothing but cold sheets. He was getting real tired of the mixed signals.

Stiles rolled over and sat up slowly, letting his legs dangle off the side of the mattress. He ran his hands over his face. _Where’d you go?_ He stood and began pulling on his discarded clothing. He popped into the adjoined bathroom and splashed some water on his face before leaving Lydia’s room. The hall was dim and quiet, nothing but the distant sound of morning birds. Stiles ran the tips of his fingers along the wall as he meandered slowly. He listened for her in some other area of the house, but as he rounded the corner to see the living area and kitchen, there was no sign of Lydia. 

The rest of Lydia’s apartment looked a lot like her room. The walls were decorated with expensive artwork, and any area of flooring that could fit a rug, had one. Light poured in from all windows at such intensity, it made him shield his eyes. Stiles was just about to reach the doorway, resolving to be angry with Lydia for the next week, when he saw a note on the small table adjacent to the exit. 

_Hey, Stiles._

_Sorry, I had to leave early, Erica called in sick, and they asked me to cover for her. I didn’t want to wake you up, so I just left._

_Love you._

Stiles relaxed slightly and sighed. He decided he should probably get some work done too and pocketed the note. He exited her apartment and headed to his dad’s house. 

\--

Packing up the computer and gaming stuff was the worst. Every cord he coiled reminded him of a cumbersome instillation process he’d have to revisit. Stiles lazily tossed softer items in boxes, like clothes and blankets, but handled his electronics gingerly. Overall, Stiles’ amount of belongings was underwhelming, seeing that he was only able to fill up a few large containers.

Fortunately he finished packing in one day, and the next day he woke up bright and early to continue the transition. His dad helped him pile the boxes in the back of the jeep, and with some sad looks, and a final hug, Stiles departed towards his new home.

Derek opened the door for Stiles as he lumbered into the loft carting an oversized cardboard box, clearly struggling. Stiles wobbled slightly when passing the other man and was surprised at the sudden loss of weight in his arms. Derek effortlessly took the box and stalked towards Stiles’ new room. “Thanks…” Stiles mumbled slightly and rolled his shoulders, upset that he couldn’t carry the weight that he could. 

The process worked like that for a while, Stiles insisting he could carry half his body weight in computer supplies and Derek just rolling his eyes and talking them away from him. Stiles winced minutely every time Derek scooped up a box of his precious hardware, but was relieved when it was always set down gently in his room. Once everything was settled, Derek offered quietly to help him unpack the boxes but Stiles stiffened. “No!” Derek blanched slightly. “No, thanks, I mean, I got it, don’t worry.” 

Derek shrugged and left Stiles to his own devices. Stiles felt a little uncomfortable being so brash about the subject, but even more so with the idea of someone touching what was so carefully constructed. He tried to shake off the feeling and began slowly and carefully unpacking his computer and game design stuff. After a grueling six hours of non-stop work, he had it all placed neatly on his desk, with everything plugged in accordingly. Which he was pretty impressed with, he thought it would take longer. He went to relax for a bit on his bed, before he realized it was still disassembled in the corner. Groaning, he stretched out his tired muscles and went to work on putting it together.

As if on cue, Derek appeared in the doorway. “You sure you don’t need help?”

Stiles set down the headboard he’d been trying to lug across the room against a wall and sighed. “Not really. I’ll probably break something.” He scanned the wooden posts and metal frames that filled a corner, and felt them staring back and taunting him. “…like a bone.” 

Derek smirked slightly and brushed past Stiles to pick up the headboard. After Stiles’ initial direction telling Derek where he wanted the bed, it really became him watching Derek build the whole thing unassisted. Stiles felt bad about it, but Derek insisted that he didn’t need Stiles to do anything, and he was right. Derek worked fast and soon there was a bed that sprouted from the pile of wood and metal. 

Stiles was confused at how Derek could exert such minimal effort during such a task, he himself was exhausted and when it came right down to it, all he had done was crawl around a desk and plug things in. Derek left him again after that, and Stiles put the bedding on his mattress and collapsed unceremoniously on top. He liked having a queen size, enough room to roll around and stretch his gangly limbs out on. And it was always there on the off chance Lydia wanted to have sex, but she tended to prefer her own bed, maybe because it made it easier to escape in the mornings. 

And on that note, Stiles feel asleep for a couple hours, waking to a loud thump in another room of his new home. He sat up quickly, blinking away the sleep and rubbing absently at his mouth where he had drooled slightly. He padded softly out of his room in his sock-clad feet to go investigate the noise. He wasn’t feeling particularly brave, but he was too tired to remember what a dangerous situation even was. 

He crept around a pillar in the main room of the loft to see Derek. He was settled on a couch facing the main, gigantic, window. His body was draped over most of it, feet lifted next to him and torso twisted over the side of the armrest, head tossed back, exposing his neck. He was breathing heavily, and with the soft moonlight pouring through the window, Stiles could see that the older man looked absolutely exhausted. He was wearing the same jeans and shoes he had last seen him in, but rather than a henley, he was wearing a dingy wife-beater. Sweat glistened off his forehead, neck, and the exposed sections of his pecks. Stiles trailed the silhouette of his figure, and the moon seemed to shine brighter when he noticed the blood smeared on his stomach. 

Stiles eyes widened and he rushed over to the man. Derek jumped slightly and sat up more with effort as Stiles knelt beside him. “Ohmygod what happened to you??” Stiles mind reeled as he reached toward the bloody spot, but his hand was gently swatted away with a groan by Derek.

“It’s fine, Stiles.” Derek rested his elbows on his thighs and sighed quietly. He dropped his head between his shoulders.

Stiles sat wide eyed and seemed unable to close his mouth. “But- but you’re bleeding!” 

Derek’s head picked up and he softly said, “It’s not my blood.”

Stiles blanched and stood slowly, backing up a few feet. He realized he’d made a grave mistake agreeing to move here without really getting to know Derek. He really had no idea what Derek was capable of. 

Derek scanned his face and lifted his palms for Stiles to see. “Hey, hey, I didn’t kill anyone. I just got back from work.” He cast his gaze downward. “…You can’t save everyone.” Stiles could barely hear his voice.

The relief rushed over Stiles like pouring rain. “Oh, yeah, of course. You’re a fire fighter, I’m sorry I’m just still- this is very new to me.” He cringed. “And I’m sorry about whatever happened. Do you... do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” was all he said before standing slowly and heading towards his room. Stiles stood in his same position, eyes locked on Derek’s door until he heard the sound of running water. He meandered quietly back to his room and unpacked his clothes and other miscellaneous stuff. He really didn’t have a whole lot that wasn’t electronics or paper. And after hanging a couple posters, he was done unpacking. 

Stiles’ stomach groaned loudly, reminding him that he’d neglected to eat that day, far too concerned with the setup of his room. He headed out of the apartment complex at about nine o’clock, noticing that Derek hadn’t exited his bedroom yet. He took his jeep and picked up some fast food, getting something for Derek too. He left the bag by the other man’s still closed door when he returned with a note saying once again, he was sorry.

Stiles ate his grease covered burger and fries sitting on his bed, idly thinking about texting Lydia. He decided that with the way she’s been treating him lately, he should play a little hard to get. Instead he sent his father a message saying that he was settled in, and that Derek hadn’t killed him yet. He neglected to mention the appearance of blood and disappearance of roommate, but John did not need to know those details. 

Stiles lazily got ready for bed, spreading his toiletries around his personal bathroom and taking time to snoop around the rooms. He returned to the bed much like he had earlier and fell into dreamless sleep.

\--

Stiles didn’t see Derek until about midafternoon the next day. He’d gotten up in a somewhat timely manner, to not appear lazy and unorganized to his new roommate. He worked for a while on the current game in production and decided he deserved a break. 

For Stiles this meant instead of making video games, he’d play them. He tugged the last cardboard box out of his room, containing a TV, a couple gaming systems, and many, many, games and DVDs. He dragged it across the floor with little finesse into the living room area and began unloading. He set the TV upon its stand across from the couch and filled the cabinet underneath with the systems and games. Many of the cases didn’t fit so he just took them back to his room and put them on a bookshelf. He then settled into the task of hooking up the television to cable and then to his systems. It didn’t take too long since they were not new electronics and everything was already installed. 

Stiles decided to restart Assassin’s Creed for X-Box 360 for the third time and began playing, being careful not to have the volume obnoxiously loud, for fear of angering Derek, if he was even home. The bag of food was missing from where Stiles had sat it the previous night, but there was still not sign of the man. 

Once Stiles had gotten past the first couple cut-scenes and actually started playing the game, the older man materialized. Derek looked as though nothing had happened to him that was out of the ordinary, he was back in normal, un-bloodied clothes and looked relaxed. He looked at Stiles slightly confused and headed over to the couch where the shorter man was sitting. 

“Hey, Derek, I hope you don’t mind. You said this space is up for grabs, so…” Stiles smiled at him in a way he hoped looked friendly and not terrified.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Derek said, eyes not leaving the screen. “What are you doing?”

“Playing Assassin’s Creed.”

“Yeah, but like, what are you _doing_?” Derek seemed to be engrossed in the actions on the screen. 

“Killing people.” Stiles punctuated this by beheading a man trying to attack his character. 

“Why?”

Stiles grinned and began to explain the plot line of the game, while Derek watched his every move with a strange, childlike wonder. He eventually moved to sit on the couch next to Stiles, as the younger man delved further and further into the game. Stiles noticed Derek’s fascination. “Do you want to play?” He asked after pausing the game and turning to the other man. He extended the controller out towards him slightly. 

Derek’s brows knotted together slightly as he looked back at Stiles. “Uh, not really, it looks kind of hard.” He glanced down at the controller as if he’d never seen one.

Stiles tilted his head to one side and pulled his hand back into his lap, “Have you never played a video game before?”

Derek shook his head.

Stiles grinned slightly and stood up. He lived for moments where he got to introduce people to the thrill of his arena. Derek’s eyes follow him as he switches out the game to one that’s a bit simpler, Off Road.

“So we’ll start with racing games, to get your hand-eye coordination working, and then well migrate over to fighting. This one’s good because there’s a mode where you can just ride around in the middle of nowhere with no consequences. You can just do whatever you want.” He glanced back over at Derek while he hooked up a second controller, seeing that the man had not changed his concerned expression. He sank back into the couch and handed the older man a controller and started the game. He placed himself and Derek in jeeps and selected the Hawaii map. When the game started Derek just stared at the black piece of plastic with buttons in his hands like that was all that it was. 

“...What do I do?” Derek looked at the controller like it was a baby that someone just handed him. Stiles smiled again at his naivety and leaned closer to the other man. 

Stiles pointed above the right toggle, “You use this to change directions, and this to go forward, and this to go reverse.” He gestured to the triggers. Derek continued to stare in the same manner until Stiles just enveloped his hands in his and set them on the controller in the proper way.

Stiles’ heart beat a lot faster than was probably necessary as he noted the warmth and roughness of the other man’s hands, a stark difference to his smooth ones as he did little manual labor. He placed his own thumb over Derek’s and pressed forward on the toggle, and pressed his pointer finger into the trigger, causing the vehicle on the screen to lurch forward. Derek looked from the screen to the controller and back again in fascination. Stiles demonstrated his action once again to the other man before retracting his hands and returning the other his personal space.

Derek continued to stare at the game in wonder, occasionally ineptly surging forward in the jeep. Stiles watched fondly as the other man tried to run over some signs and drive up the side of mountains, a small smile playing on his usually straight lips. 

Stiles participated in short races with Derek, running alongside Hawaiian roads, and around volcanoes. It was Derek’s amusement and marvel that reminded him why he’d gotten into game design in the first place. It was to make other people happy, and feel the same feelings of amazement that he felt the first time he’d ever played a video game.

After they’d played for a good couple hours, they decided it was probably time to call it quits and eat dinner. They sat at Derek’s long wooden table together and ate, Stiles chatting about his job and asking Derek questions frequently to keep him involved in the conversation. 

“So how come you’ve never played a video game?”

Derek shifted slightly in his seat. “Uh, no time I guess.”

Stiles laughed, “Full time job as a thirteen year old?” 

Derek fixed Stiles with a hard gaze. “Something like that.”

Stiles stopped laughing and returned his attention to his food, feeling uncomfortable. He picked at some pasta with his fork before he felt brave enough to glance back at the other man. Derek’s face had softened and he was smiling slightly again. 

“But it was uh... fun, so thanks.”

Stiles grinned. “Yeah, anytime.”

“And um, thanks for last night, too.” Derek looked at his own plate now, like it was hard for him to show emotions. 

“Of course, dude.” Stiles shoved a couple pieces of pasta into his mouth and swallowed. “And you can play anytime you want, I can make you a profile and show you how to turn it on and stuff if you want.”

Derek grinned, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Stiles grinned a bit harder. _I think I’m gonna like it here._


	5. Chapter 5

A few months had passed and Stiles and Derek had comfortably fit into each other’s routines. Every morning Derek would get up early enough to be well adjusted to the waking world, showered, eaten, coherent, by the time Stiles stumbled dazed into the main room. The younger man would usually go about reheating coffee that Derek left out for him and curling up on the couch with the blanket he’d dragged from his room. 

Derek began offering to take Stiles along for his morning runs, concerned about his lack of movement. Stiles went with him when he was feeling particularly courageous one morning, but couldn’t keep up. He practically complained for the rest of the week about how sore his legs were, and swore he’d never run again. However, Derek continued to ask.

He’d become known to complain about the cold atmosphere in the lack of homey touches rather than the actual temperature. Derek gave in a bit over time and got two throw pillows for the couch, but that seemed to be the best he could do. Stiles was still pretty enthused, and found himself more often than not falling asleep on said couch, cozied up against them. 

Stiles awoke on the couch with the dim light of morning peeking through the large window. It was far earlier than he was used to. Stiles rustled and checked his watch, which he’s neglected to remove, and it read 5:14AM. Stiles groaned quietly and rolled over, catching a glimpse of something moving in his peripheral. 

Stiles’ eyes focused on the expanse of tan skin peeking out from the doorway to Derek’s room. Derek stood with his back to Stiles, stretching his arms out in front of him and cracking his neck from side to side. With each movement of his extremities, there was an accompanying ripple of muscle across his bare back, distorting his tattooed skin in a graceful manner. 

Derek took a step back and Stiles shrunk back into the couch and closed his eyes, thinking he’d be caught staring, but when he deemed it safe, he peeked one eye open and let out a cautious breath. The taller man was gripping the bar that settled between the posts of his door and was pulling his body up, touching his chin softly against the metal, and lowering himself back down. Stiles tried not to stare so obviously as he readjusted his whole position, but couldn’t help but notice how effortless the exercise seemed to him. Derek made no noise as he went about his routine. After a couple minutes of blatant observation, Stiles lowered himself into the couch further and pretended to sleep, the images of Derek’s glistening deltoids burned into his retinas, content to be serenaded by the soft sounds of breath and socked feet hitting the floor. 

Stiles heard Derek dismount completely and pad over to the kitchen. He fussed with the coffee pot before walking past Stiles again to enter his room. Before he closed the door he called over his shoulder in a monotone voice, “Good morning, Stiles. Are you going to lay there all day?”

He stilled and waited with bated breath for Derek to close his door. Stiles groaned and sat up, rubbing his face fiercely with his hands. In a desperate attempt to pretend that Derek didn’t know he was staring at him while he was working out, he straightened up the couch and took himself, clad in a blanket and yesterday’s clothes, over to his room and collapsed on the bed. 

Stiles stared up at the ceiling and thought about what he needed to accomplish during the day. Unfortunately he was in the beginning stages of a new project, so he needed more information about the new game before he could do any designing. This would leave him to stew in his own thoughts for a while. At least until he got over himself. 

Eventually he rolled off his bed onto the ground, having spent enough time doing nothing for Derek to be fully clothed. He wasted just a little more time haphazardly making his bed and putting on some fresh clothes. 

When he did enter the kitchen, Derek was already in there, sitting at the table and staring incredulously at his laptop screen. He looked up briefly when the shorter man entered the room but returned to clacking on his keyboard using only his pointer fingers without casting so much as a smile his way. Stiles went through his normal routine, heating up a cup of coffee that Derek left out for him in the microwave, and settling himself across the table with it and checking through his phone for any work emails. 

“So…” Stiles said after confirming that he had no new information for his current project. 

“So?” Derek didn’t look up from his computer screen, intently focused on reading something. 

“We should redecorate. Today.” Stiles nodded even though Derek wasn’t looking, but the last statement called his attention. Derek closed his laptop and stared at Stiles.

“You mean decorate. There’s nothing here to re-do.” Derek looked into the living room. “Why? It works just fine.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh, Derek. That’s what I like about you, you’re like a rock.” Stiles pushed out his chair and walked towards the big window. He spun on his heel, facing Derek again. “Number one, there should be something here that blocks the light when you don’t want it.” Derek grunted from the table. Stiles stepped further into the room and tapped his foot. “Number two, we are in desperate need of some rugs. I know you don’t have any feelings but these floors are freezing when you’re not wearing socks.”

“Then wear socks.”

Stiles ignored him and continued, “Doesn’t the lack of color bother you at all? It’s all gray in here, it looks like a storage facility.”

“That’s what you keep telling me.” Derek stood up and walked over to where Stiles was standing. “If we go out today and get a colorful rug will you leave me alone?”

“ _And_ curtains?”

Derek sighed, “Sure, whatever.”

Stiles grinned and clapped Derek on the shoulder.

\--

They were only _supposed_ to leave the home décor store with a rug and some curtains.

However, Stiles called up Lydia for another opinion, and with her help they left the store with several rugs, canvas prints, lamps, drapery, and some weird knick-knacks she swears were necessary. When they got back to the loft she directed the boys in placing the heavy objects and set out smaller things herself.

Satisfied her work was finished, Lydia kissed Stiles goodbye and saw herself out. Stiles smiled as he watched her exit. He turned and walked towards Derek who was turning over a small figurine in his massive hands. He stared at it with a small amount fascination and possible… amusement. Stiles looked on fondly at the scene. “Hey, I think this is the closest thing I’ve seen to a smile from you in a while, eh?” He gently bumped his elbow into Derek’s arm.

Derek offered Stiles a sad grin and set the figure down. “It looks good in here.” He said softly. 

The other man’s brow furrowed. “Then what’s the matter?” 

“Nothing.” Derek brushed past Stiles and headed to the kitchen. Stiles watched him pull out a bottle from the liquor cabinet and start heading towards his room. Derek drank occasionally after a particularly hard day of work, but it was only ever a glass or two maximum, Stiles never knew him to horde the whole bottle. Stiles was stunned and his first instinct was to yell and hide all the alcohol like when he was with his father. Instead he moved fast and blocked Derek’s path. He was well aware that his fire-fighter roommate could beat him into next week, but he chanced grabbing the bottle right from his hand, and holding it behind his back.

“What are you doing?” Stiles was quick to anger, he didn’t want to deal with this all over again. 

Derek sneered, “What are _you_ doing, Stiles? Give that to me.”

Stiles looked around for a path to take. “Come get it.” He said quickly before running over to the couch. He only got about three feet before he felt arms close around him and squeezed tight enough to knock the wind out of him. Accompanying this was the feeling of his feet leaving the floor. He summoned what energy he could to flail his legs as his arms were pinned to his sides. “Dude, what the fuck? Put me down!” Derek wordlessly set Stiles on the ground in front of the couch, and while the younger man was regaining his composure, Derek gently plucked the bottle- whisky, Stiles noticed- right out of his hand.

Derek started to glumly walk towards his room when he heard a small. “Please.”

Stiles sat on the floor in front of the couch, letting a hand fall and intertwine with the strands of the new shag rug. “Hey, I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know locking yourself up with booze will not help.” Derek grunted softly but stopped walking and faced Stiles. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Derek shook his head softly. “Please.” Stiles stared into Derek’s eyes, imploring. 

Derek brought the bottle up to eye level and examined the label. He sighed, “Can I do both?”

Stiles grimaced, “Come on, dude. Work with me here.”

“What are you, a straight-edge?”

“Well, no.”

“Then drink _with_ me.” Derek walked over to Stiles and sunk to the ground next to him, uncapping the bottle. Stiles stared with his mouth agape, but decided it would be better this way.

Stiles allowed Derek to drink heavily from the bottle and pass it to him without comment. Stiles took a long draw from the bottle and winced at the burning sensation and unpleasant taste. They followed the pattern until the bottle was near empty; Stiles eventually turned some music on and slumped against Derek’s side. Derek’s eyes were heavily lidded and he would occasionally hiccup softly, but seemed to be able to hold his alcohol in a way more efficient manner than Stiles. 

Stiles rolled over so that his head was on Derek’s thighs and started to involuntarily wiggle his legs like he was trying to make a snow angel on the rug. Derek squinted at him, “What are you doing?”

Stiles grinned, sloppy and blissful, “Derek, good sir, I don’t think you’re enjoying this rug as much as you could be.” Stiles reached up and grabbed a hold of Derek’s shirt; he knocked the fistful of fabric against Derek’s solid pecks a couple times. He grinned even wider, remembering the image of what lied underneath. “You gotta come down here, give it a proper ‘Hello’”. 

Derek set the bottle down and moved to lay across from Stiles on the ground so that they were facing each other. Well, Derek was facing Stiles, but the other man was rubbing his face softly into the ground. “Get in there.” Stiles blindly reached for Derek’s face and smooshed it drunkenly into the carpet with no real force, causing Derek to chuckle softly. Stiles was happy to see Derek loosening up, but he didn’t forget his plan.

“So… what troubles you, my friend?” Stiles blinked a couple times, intent on paying attention.

“You won’t remember if I tell you.”

“Does that help?

Derek rolled over on his back and stared up at the expansive ceiling. “Yeah, actually.”

Stiles propped himself up on an elbow and stared at Derek. “Then let ‘er rip, big guy.” He patted Derek on the shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting and encouraging manner. 

Derek wetted his lips and closed his eyes. “Well… I really don’t like sharing personal information…”

“We’ll you can tell me, we’ve known each other for _decades_.” Stiles urged. 

“That’s not true, Stiles.”

“Oh.”

Derek grinned a little but kept his eyes closed. “But I suppose I have warmed up to you.” Derek opened his eyes, keeping them downcast. “I’m feeling a lot of things that I have… repressed. Um, last time I lived somewhere homey or colorful or… whatever… was, uh, when I lived with my parents before… you know. And, I started-“ his voice wavered slightly so he cleared his throat. “I started thinking about how much I miss them and where I had to go… after…” Derek closed his eyes again.

Stiles lowered his arm that was propping him up and sunk to the floor, pillowing his head on his hands, listening as best as he could in his inebriated state. He frowned, afraid of hearing what would come next, but more upset at knowing that Derek was feeling this badly, and a bit guilty that he may have set it off with his need for decoration. 

Derek sat silent for a bit, mid-sentence, until Stiles nudged his leg gently with his own. “Hey, it’s okay. You can’t keep all this inside.”

Derek turned his head again to meet Stiles’ gaze. “Laura and I were sent from place to place after my family died. After a month or so of being treated like shit we’d find a way to get to the police station and tell… your Dad.” He offered another sorrowful smile. “He was the nicest and most helpful person in our lives. He’d be the only one to believe our stories, understand our pain. He’d tell people to move us again and they’d say that our foster families were just ‘not compatible’ with us. Fucking bullshit.” He sat up a bit and finished off the whiskey; he glanced at Stiles and sighed before lying down again. 

Stiles noticed his bloodshot eyes and felt a strange urge to put his hand to Derek’s cheek to sooth him, he wanted to brush the worry lines off of his face. The thought left his head when the other man began speaking again.

“I don’t know if anyone’s compatible with those fucking abusive assholes, and I don’t understand why they kept pushing us to other people who were worse and worse!” He rolled back over on his back and ran his hand down his face. “But I can deal with that pain and anger and distrust of people. I do constantly. So what’s really coming up right now is probably a memory that rivals the day my parents were killed.” Derek turned his face to look at Stiles again, eyes glassy. He lowered his voice, “Are you sure you won’t remember?” Derek laughed weakly, most likely trying to coax the urge to cry away. 

Stiles scooted a bit closer and said quietly, “I can’t really promise that, but I can promise that it will get better if you begin trusting people. You can start with me, if you want. And getting this off your chest will help. I also promise that I won’t judge you and I won’t tell anyone.”

Derek sighed, “Okay... The last house we were in was near the reserve. There was only a man there, and no other kids, which seemed odd at first, but we found out why pretty quickly.” Derek began whispering. “It was so dark, so gray in that house. What I remember the most was the mildewy smell, and the feeling of the rusty bars, that separated us from the moonlight. He kept us in the basement when he didn’t need us. He brought us upstairs to clean the house and make it look like kids lived there. _Happy_ kids. This was so when the people came to see if we were adjusting well, it made it easier for him to keep up the lie. And we knew not to tell. And we knew not to try to leave. He wouldn’t just hit us and yell like the others. He’d lock us in the basement for days, starve us, _torture_ us.

“H-he caught us trying to quietly pry the bars off the basement window. We tried so hard to be silent so he wouldn’t know. And-“ Derek swallowed. “He came down the stairs before we could get it open. He moved so _fast _. He grabbed me and handcuffed me to a pipe, he had always threatened to use them on us. Laura started running up the stairs but he was too fast. He grabbed her and pulled her back down towards me. He told me he wanted me to watch. Watch him pull out a kitchen knife and stab my sister in the stomach.__

__“I lost it, I hardly remember what happened. I pulled the handcuffs so hard they broke the bar. Adrenaline I guess. I remember… grabbing the knife and feeling my sister’s blood on my hand, and hearing her scream as I pulled it out.” Derek’s eyes had filled to the brim with tears and a few spilled over, he blinked them away and sniffed. “I was so angry, and so done with being treated like total shit. I don’t even know what happened but I know it was really, really bad._ _

__“We left, as fast as we could out the window, just like we dreamed. We ran into the preserve and found our home, burned but still standing. We lived there for so long. I don’t know how long I was kept down in that basement, it felt like years, but it felt longer in the woods. I snuck into the town on the other side of the preserve to rummage for food in the dumpsters or beg for money. I don’t know what happened to the man. I couldn’t return to Beacon Hills, I was so afraid he’d find us. I was so afraid he’d kill us.” Derek closed his eyes and a few more tears spilled down his cheeks._ _

__He sniffed again and wiped his face with his hands, still facing Stiles but refusing to make eye contact. “I’m sorry I told you all that. I shouldn’t have.”_ _

__Stiles frowned, trying to take in the story and deciding what the perfect thing to say was. Derek looked back at him and the grief in his face was overwhelming. Stiles scooted closer and draped his arm across Derek’s chest and snugged into his side, burying his face in the other’s neck. He decided to play the drunk card a bit more, even though he’d sobered up quite a bit listening to the story. Stiles hugged Derek’s shoulder tightly and felt his body shake softly with his quiet sobbing._ _

__“It okay, Derek. It’s all okay.”_ _

__They lied there for a while until Derek’s shaking subsided. Stiles didn’t let go, but instead ran his hand up and down Derek’s upper arm. “Can I ask you something, though?” He felt Derek nod against his head. “Why did you make yourself live in this loft, somewhere so empty and gray if it made you feel so bad?”_ _

__Derek began shaking again and with a shuddering breath uttered, “I don’t deserve anything better. I don’t deserve comfort or warmth. I deserve to be right back in that basement.”_ _

__Stiles hugged him closer. “No you don’t. Don’t you _dare_ talk like that again! You deserve so much happiness and love and comfort. You were just a kid, you didn’t do anything wrong. You did what you had to. You’re a good person, Derek, I need you to believe that. And you can’t bury stuff like this anymore and think booze with help push it down so far that you won’t remember. You don’t have to live like this anymore, okay?” Derek let out a couple more shuddering breathes but didn’t answer. “Okay?” Stiles repeated._ _

__“…Okay.” Derek took a deep breath._ _

__A couple more minutes passed with Stiles rubbing Derek’s arm. Stiles felt Derek shift and snake his arm under Stiles’ and hug him back. Stiles pulled his face back a bit and stared at Derek’s puffy eyes and tear stained face. “Thank you, Stiles.”_ _

__Stiles smiled and nodded. “Of course.”_ _

__A buzzing drew them both into the present and Derek untangled himself from Stiles to answer his phone. He sat up on the rug and brought the phone up to his ear, Stiles remaining completely reclined on the floor. Derek cleared his throat and said hello. Stiles listened to the one sided conversation that Derek had with someone and played lazily with the stringy bits of the shag. Derek hung up the phone and looked at the younger man. “Hey, I gotta go to work right now, okay? They need back up.” He half smiled and awkwardly patted Stiles on the shoulder. “Make sure you drink water before you go to bed or you’ll get hung over, okay?” Derek stood and headed to his room to make it look like he wasn’t crying and soon exited, grabbing his jacket and leaving the loft._ _

__Stiles contemplated what to do next with all this new information. He eventually decided, or rather the residual inebriation decided, that he should gather himself up and head to bed. This is what he did, unfortunately forgetting to drink any water._ _

__\--_ _

__Stiles awoke to a throbbing headache and bad taste in his mouth. He groaned and rolled over, trying to figure out why his head was pounding so badly. All of his blankets had been kicked down to the floor and he had no energy to cover himself anyway. Ultimately he summoned the strength to stand, but quickly found himself on the floor. He crawled over to the trash can and vomited the contents of his stomach into it. After there was nothing left, he dry heaved a couple more times and sunk back down onto the ground._ _

__The ground was too cold and hard so he continued his journey toward the door still on his hands and knees. He reached up and fumbled at the knob and pulled it open, smiling at the sight before him. Derek had left out a bag of greasy fast food, a glass of water, mouthwash, aspirin, and B12. Stiles sighed thankfully and dragged the contents back into his room and crawled back up into his bed with the hangover remedies. He checked the time and noted that Derek was already at work and would be for a couple more hours. The food was still warm, Stiles briefly thought the lack of faith insulting but admittedly well placed, because he didn’t drink the water._ _

__An hour or so later, Stiles felt well enough to exit his room and take a shower. He cleaned his teeth as well as humanly possible and dressed in comfy clothes._ _

__He headed out towards the kitchen, on the hunt for some coffee. When he passed the living room he noted how dark it was in there, confused, and concerned that it was somehow night. Derek had just closed the curtains on the large window, knowing the light would be very painful to Stiles, who smiled, grateful._ _

__He grabbed the coffee pot and poured the rest into his favorite mug and heated it in the microwave. Stiles sat on the couch and enjoyed the feeling of the shag rug between his toes, remembering the conversation he and Derek had the night previous. Truth be told, he wasn’t mad at him or afraid of him. He felt pity for how bad his childhood was, and felt guilty that he couldn’t do anything to help when they were kids. He remembered Derek and Laura sitting in the station again, looking heartbroken. He wished there was something he could do._ _

__Stiles ran his hands down his face and sighed heavily._ _


	6. Chapter 6

Nothing was really the same anymore. Sure Derek woke early, worked out and made them both coffee, then Stiles drank some hours later when he woke. Stiles still did all his work at home, in his room, and then came out at night to use the TV. But that was about it.

Stiles really needed to stop crashing on the couch. 

He found himself out there more than his actual bed. Lately Derek had been working late nearly every night, or he’d be called out of nowhere to leave. Stiles had always meant to wait up for him. He’d sit on the couch with the TV on to keep him awake, but he’d eventually pass out, lulled by the soft noise and pulsing light. 

When he awoke in the mornings it was always the same. There was a blanket draped over him, and the TV was shut off. Stiles liked it in a way, to be cared for by another person, rather than care for someone else. But, a larger part of him thought he was probably being annoying. 

He curled up in the blanket tighter and looked at the window, observing the light peeking out from between the curtains. Stiles wondered if Derek was avoiding him, and giving him blankets and occasional extra pillows was his way of making up for his lack of presence. Ever since he gave Stiles the disturbing glimpse into his devastating childhood, he’s been a bit aloof. 

And Stiles of course, over-analytical as ever, felt really bad for asking him to spill his guts.

Stiles sat up, trying to figure out if he was home alone. He heard some soft thumping from outside the room- animals probably. 

He stood and gathered his blanket, trudging to his room and tossing it on the bed, as per usual. He grabbed some fresh clothes for the day and headed to the bathroom to have a shower and feel a bit better. Sleeping on the couch always made him feel a bit rusty.

Stiles stepped into the great room, again noticing no sign of his roommate. Stiles felt a bit nervous. He wished he would just show up so they could hang out like they used to. He decided to check out his room and see if he was just doing something in there. They needed to talk.

Stiles cleared his throat and knocked on Derek’s door. The door swung open after a beat, but it wasn’t who Stiles was expecting.

A woman stood there, a _stunning_ woman. She had waist length, wavy black hair that billowed over her shoulders and hung soft and tousled around her face. Her eyes were dark and stern, mirrored and intensified by her dark makeup. She was wearing a loose black shirt and jeans, and a thought flashed through Stiles’ mind that that may have been Derek’s shirt (He had many v-necks).

Which would mean he’d interrupted something. _Shit._

It would make sense as to why Derek had been so absent lately; he had a _girlfriend_. Or, at least a partner. Stiles’ mind began running possible scenarios. Derek may have met this person yesterday; this could be a new thing or an old flame. He never asked these questions, and they never talked about protocol for partners. _Sock on the door, dude._ He regretted that now. Stiles felt the dread pool in his stomach. He was weirdly affected by the assumption that Derek was seeing someone. However, he had Lydia, so why did it bother him?

The woman looked at Stiles expectantly while he became flustered. “Hi?” She grinned slightly and waited for Stiles to state his business. 

“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry for intruding or- uh, oh my.” He laughed weakly. “I’m going to go far away now, thank you, uh… yep.” Stiles spun around and walked quickly into the kitchen. He didn’t remain alone in there for very long, as Derek showed up in a few moments. 

Stiles faced the cabinets with his back to Derek and clicked his fingers against the counter, deciding what his next move should be. “Uh, Stiles?” 

Stiles spun around, not fully recovered and strangely hurt. “Oh, god, dude, I’m really sorry.”

Derek looked confused and slightly amused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry for disturbing your, uh, affairs. Your… undertakings…” Stiles looked at the floor, feeling like shit. He picked at his left thumb nail, focusing his energy on the task and trying not to spaz out.

He was brought back to reality by the sound of Derek’s singular bark of laughter. “Um, no. That’s Laura.”

Stiles’ eyes widened and his head snapped up to meet Derek’s entertained gaze, “Your _sister_! Oh, wow, that’s kind of a relief.” His chest swelled and he felt almost giddy. Stiles filed away his emotions for the moment, intent on digging them up for analytical purposes at a later time.

Derek smiled at Stiles’ inability to act like a normal human. “Would you like to meet her properly?” 

Stiles had always wanted to meet Laura. He’d heard a lot about her during his stay. Laura was usually a talking point for Derek, he thought so highly of her and you could see the fondness in his eyes when he was recalling a memory of her. As far as Stiles was concerned, Laura was like a superhero. “Well, of course!” He added under his breath as they began to move towards Derek’s room, “Another super great first impression, Stiles.” He huffed when he heard Derek let out another chuckle. 

Derek stepped into the room first and Stiles trailed him like a child. Laura was leaning against the wall and walked over to the other two. She smiled warmly at Stiles, a hint of playfulness in her eyes.

“So, Laura, this is Stiles. Stiles, this is Laura.” Derek gestured between them and smiled, he really seemed to brighten up when Laura was in the room. 

Stiles tried to absorb his energy and smiled. “Hey, Laura, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Stiles waved gently, still not even willing to close the distance with a handshake because the blanket of awkward was heavier than gravity and he couldn’t make his arms move.

“Same here, it’s great to meet you.” She said sweetly and leaned in to hug Stiles. Stiles smiled and hugged back, grateful that he’d regained that mobility. He noted that her hair smelled like lavender as she pulled away, still beaming.

God she was gorgeous. _Just like her brother_ Stiles tried to clear unwanted feelings from his mind. His gaze flicked over to the afore mentioned and he willed his brain to think friend only thoughts. Sure Derek was godlike and wonderful, but they were _friends_. Friends only, and Stiles knew how impossible his imaginings were.

Still he found that more and more frequently he was thinking about him in a different way. 

Stiles wanted to patch Derek up when he got back from firefighting, and be able to take extra time to make him feel better. He wanted to lay on the ground with him more and get drunk. He wanted to cuddle up on the couch and watch movies and explain what’s going on to him.

He wanted to wake up and shamelessly watch Derek pad about the house half naked as he got ready. He thought about being able to run his hands down the smooth, muscled skin of his roommate, tasting the residual salt on his lips from after a workout…

_No, no, no._

Stiles shook his head and looked back at the woman across from him, hoping he hadn’t spent too much time in his head, as he’d been known to do.

Laura leaned her weight on one leg and folded her arms in front of her. She had an effortless cool that Stiles had already begun to envy. “So, Stiles, Derek and I were just about to go out to eat, would you like to join us?”

Stiles flicked his gaze at Derek, who was still smiling fondly at his sister. He shifted awkwardly and answered, “Thank you, but I need to be heading out myself actually.” He gestured toward the door and shrugged. He just needed to get out of this situation, he needed to think.

Derek looked over at him and furrowed his brow. “Where are you going?” Derek of course knew that Stiles didn’t have to go anywhere for his job, and was always the one trying to get him to leave the house. 

He thought on his toes. “I’m going to go spend some time with Lydia.” Stiles honestly stated, as he decided in that moment to go.

Derek and Laura exchanged a glance that Stiles could not understand. Derek shrugged and uncharacteristically clapped Stiles on the shoulder, “Well, have fun, kid.”

_Kid, ugh._

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys tonight, maybe.” He fake-smiled. 

They parted ways and Stiles left the loft first, knowing just the cure for his predicament. 

\--

He arrived at Lydia’s place without so much as a brief text warning that he was going to show up. He knocked at her door and tapped his foot while he waited for her to answer, his mind racing.

Lydia opened the door and Stiles slid past her into the main room and shut the door himself. She looked briefly confused but a small amused smirk played on her lips as he snuck a hand around her jaw, thumb caressing her cheek, then slipping it around her neck and pulling her lips to his. 

Stiles sucked her lower lip between his teeth and gently tugged, pulling her body flush against his by her hips. Lydia raked her fingers under Stiles shirt and hoodie, across his lower back. 

Stiles pulled away to gaze at Lydia’s blown out pupils and flushed face. “Hey.” She breathed, mouths still inches away.

“Hey.” Stiles smiled and leaned back in to kiss her. He moved from her mouth, peppering unrushed kisses across her jaw and down to her neck. 

She pulled her hands back out of his clothes and wrapped them around his neck to pull him closer. “So… What are you doing… here?” She said breathless in between Stiles soft nipping at her neck.

“I missed you.” Stiles said lowly and walked her back against the nearest wall. He felt her smile against his lips as he picked up the pace. He located a zipper at the nape of her neck, keeping her short dress together, and slowly worked it down. Lydia giggled when the cool air hit her skin and her dress pooled around her ankles. She kicked it aside and stepped out of her heels. 

Lydia’s hands found their way to the lapels of his hoodie and pushed it down his shoulders to join her dress on the floor, before making her way to unbutton his plaid shirt. He groaned as she skimmed over a nipple with her perfectly manicured nails. The combination of skin and air shot pleasure to his core, and he felt his cock harden.

He grinded into Lydia’s inner leg when she wrapped it around his thigh, trying to pull him closer, and wanting to feel him without the boundary of clothing. 

They tumbled their way towards her bedroom with sloppy kisses and shedding clothing. His back hit the sheets first as she straddled his waist, continuing to shower his body with nips and kisses down his chest towards his throbbing cock. She walked back on her hands and knees down his body to be able to take his member in her mouth. Stiles hissed and bit on his hand when she swirled her tongue around the head and took it as far into her mouth as she could.

He struggled to keep his hips still as she continued to work her magic. He tangled one hand’s fingers in the sheets and threaded a gentler hand into his girlfriend’s hair. She hummed along during her ministrations and kept her hands on Stiles’ thighs. A blush crept up his neck in pink blotches, the sign accompanying his impending orgasm. As if on cue, Lydia abandoned what she was doing and rolled off Stiles. She leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed a condom out of the drawer of her nightstand and crawled back over Stiles. She opened the condom deftly and rolled it onto his erection, the sensation making him buck his hips up.

Lydia steadied him and smiled. She was used to him acting like he was fifteen and not lasting long. She stood on her knees, crept up and lowered herself onto his cock. They moaned simultaneously and she began to move. Stiles’ hands trailed up her thighs and clung to her waist, toes curling with the intensity of the moment. She picked up the pace and leaned over him further. Her hair fell over her shoulders and the ends just barely dusted Stiles’ chest. 

In the whirring of nerves and thrusts and just _good_ , Stiles barely registered something Lydia said until she began to slow her speed. “You’re turn babe, my legs are getting sore.” She beamed and lifted herself off of Stiles. She rolled onto her back beside him.

Stiles took the opportunity to hover over her on the bed. He took a moment to appreciate the sight. Lydia’s hair fanned out around her face like vibrant strawberry blonde flames. Her eyes were half lidded and hazy with lust, and lips swollen and pink from the abuse. 

He kissed her on the forehead before entering her as he had so many times before. Lydia gasped and clung to Stiles as he began to rock into her. Stiles pressed his forehead into the crook of her neck, feeling the steam rising from her skin and a faint pulse.

Stiles grunted with effort as his hips quickened and Lydia’s moans grew louder. He sucked in a sharp breath when nails raked painfully down his back but followed with a wake of pleasure.

He felt a familiar buildup of warmness and pressure in his stomach. Lydia egged him on with her symphony of moans and affectionate words. She pushed herself up in to him with an arch of her back and tug on the shoulders. A contraction signifying her orgasm pushed Stiles over the edge and he came still pressed into her neck. He continued to thrust more sporadically until it was over and he came to a halt.

When his heartbeat slowed he pressed a kiss to Lydia’s neck and rolled off of her, disposing of the used condom and staring up at the ceiling. Lydia pulled up a sheet over them and rested her head on Stiles chest, wrapping an arm loosely around his waist. 

She traced lazy circles over his chest, occasionally sharing a languid, sloppy, kiss. “So, what’s up?” she asked. “You’re quiet.”

Stiles looked down at her, and combed some hair behind her ear with the hand that wasn’t around her waist. “I’m just happy. I love you.”

“Love you, too, nerd.” She wrapped her arms a bit tighter around him and snuggled her face into his side. Stiles beamed throughout, content in the success of his experiment. 

He loved Lydia, not _Derek._

\--

Stiles kissed Lydia goodbye at the door after cleaning up as best he could. On his way home he still felt a bit sleazy, he didn’t usually just fuck her and leave, that wasn’t how they worked. 

Derek and Laura were there when he returned. They likely went out to eat and returned in the hour or so that Stiles was gone. He slid the door shut and walked toward the siblings, who were sitting on the couch. 

Derek turned and looked at Stiles with a wrinkled nose. He had a very odd expression on his face, but dropped it when Stiles came closer.

Stiles felt suddenly as if he’d done something wrong, and he was almost ashamed. He half smiled at Derek and came to a stop about a foot from the couch. “Hey.”

“You weren’t gone too long, eh?” Derek readjusted his body to talk to Stiles easier, and Laura looked over at him too. 

Stiles shrugged, “Yeah, she had to go to work.” He liked to think he was a good liar, and it seemed to roll smoothly off his tongue. 

Derek squinted minutely. “Well, were just hanging out here if you want to join us.”

Stiles smiled, “Yeah, just give me a minute, I’ll be right back.” Derek nodded and he and Laura turned around to face the television once more. Stiles walked through the living space towards his bathroom and finished freshening up. 

He toed his shoes off and left them in his room, padding over sock-clad toward the couch. They only had the couch (and a couple folding chairs in a closet), so he just sat on the ground in front of it. He was just barely brushing Derek’s leg and resumed his new favorite hobby, petting the shag carpet. 

“So what are we watching?” Stiles asked, looking up at his roommate.

“The news.” Derek informed him. 

Stiles tolerated the news but certainly didn’t love it. He quickly grew tired of the droning voices and repetitive stories of traffic accidents or inclement weather. He found himself sinking into Derek’s leg slightly a couple times, but the older man didn’t seem to mind. Stiles cursed himself each time it happened. He had almost dozed off when he felt Derek stiffen.

“…A unidentified man was found today near the reserve horribly wounded. He had various deep, irregular gashes from head to toe and was brought to the local hospital where he later died of his injuries. The police are not suspecting foul play, but rather another animal attack, most likely cougar. This is yet another case in the long line of mysterious deaths as of late in Beacon Hills…” Stiles didn’t watch the woman drawl about the situation on the screen, but instead watched Derek pay rapt attention. He had leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees. He occasionally shared a glance with Laura. Stiles was feeling a bit left out, and wished he had a sibling he could be telepathic with.

Derek flopped back on the couch and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed heavily and shook his head. Stiles furrowed his brow, “What’s wrong?”

The taller man dropped his hand and looked at Stiles. “It’s just another person I couldn’t save.” Laura remained quiet, watching the exchange.

“But, you fight fires; it’s not your job to stop people from being killed by wild animals. These things just happen. You shouldn’t feel bad about that.” Stiles nudged Derek’s leg gently.

“…Yeah.” Derek said softly before changing the channel.

Stiles ended up falling asleep on Derek’s leg, and woke to the sound of clicking heels on the concrete. He jumped when he saw Laura walking around the couch toward the front door. “Sorry, sorry.” Derek laughed softly and was then able to stand and join her, after the younger man got off his leg. Stiles stood and followed, too, seeing that she was leaving.

Laura hugged Derek when they reached the door. “Well, I’ll see you on Saturday, okay? Big day!” She patted his back and pulled away.

“What’s on Saturday?” Stiles piped up from behind Derek. They both faced him, Derek looking vaguely angry and Laura looking enthused. 

“Oh, nothing, just my little brother’s thirtieth.” She reached up to tussle his hair but he grabbed her arm before she could reach it. 

Stiles smiled. “Oh my god, you didn’t tell me that, dude! Oh, we gotta have a party and I have to get you a present-“ 

Derek shook his head curtly. “No way. Bye, Laura.” He stalked off towards his room, leaving Stiles with her.

Laura shrugged, “He’s so grumpy. Anyway, do you want to help me plan something?”

“Totally.”


	7. Chapter 7

Laura was a lot better with technology than her brother. She actually replied to text messages within five minutes, while Derek often ran over an hour. Stiles was enthused with this, being the tech savvy person he was. It’s the little things in life. 

Also, as Stiles figured, Laura was as sassy and odd as her brother was, but very cunning and funny. They planned out a semi- surprise party for Derek’s birthday. Semi because he knew entirely that it was happening, but not where or really anything that would proceed.

They decided to create a nice, classic, adult party, with lots of strangers and good old fashioned booze. Laura thought it would be a good idea to hire Derek a stripper, and although the idea made Stiles exceedingly uncomfortable and strangely jealous, he ultimately agreed to it. They hired a woman whose specialty was to dress as a sexy firefighter. Perfect.

On Saturday, while Derek was conveniently at work, Stiles let Laura into the flat, and they began to set up. Laura brought the dining table out into the living room- Stiles offered to help, but Laura is _crazy_ strong- and set all the drinks out on it. There was really _way_ too much. But Stiles was a warrior, and he would power through. And drink a lot. For Derek. And at the request of Stiles, they set out some snack food to go with the alcohol. 

They opened up the curtains to let the moonlight in, it was only a half moon tonight. Stiles’ speaker system was moved out into the great room as well, so they could listen to music. The rest of the room was appropriately dimmed and organized to accompany a lot of people, the two planners decided to skimp on decorations, because they knew Derek wouldn’t like them anyway, 

As for guests, Laura invited her husband, and Stiles invited Lydia and all of his high school friends to fill the space. Unfortunately, Derek didn’t really have any of his own friends, but they were able to get a couple people from the fire station to agree to show. They tried to pack as many bodies into the loft as they could on such short notice. 

The time passed fast that day and they were all shifting around in the moments before Derek’s arrival. Stiles’ friends had shown up, Scott and Kira off in a corner talking, and Jackson already getting into the drinks. The firemen they invited that didn’t share the shift with Derek that night were looking around, like they were inspecting the place for fire hazards. 

“Wish I would have known about his birthday sooner, he never tells me anything.” Stiles complained. He organized some cups on the table while guests hovered around quietly, waiting for the man of the hour to show. “I still haven’t been able to get him a gift.”

Laura smirked, “Oh, you’d be surprised; I think you’re the closest friend he’s ever had.” She smiled at him fondly. 

Stiles picked his head up from his task and met her gaze, furrowing his brows, saddened but still slightly touched. 

Laura’s attention immediately snapped to the door and she raised her hand to quiet everyone. A few seconds later, Stiles could hear the soft jingling of keys in the hallway. _How did she hear that?_ he wondered idly. Everyone huddled together in the dim light, waiting for Derek to open the door. When he did, he stepped in quietly and stared straight ahead, closing the door behind him with one arm. He stood there in the dark expectantly for a moment, before Stiles and Laura simultaneously clicked the lamps on either of the couch, the rest of the room resounding in a, “SURPRISE!” 

Derek’s eyes passed by everyone, not looking phased in the least bit, but still an amused smirk playing on his lips. The room began chatting again as Derek descended the couple steps into the living area and shook the hands of some of his co-workers. One of them handed Derek a beer and clapped him on the back as he walked over to Laura and Stiles. He wrapped his arm around Laura’s shoulders, kissed the top of her head and murmured, “I hate you.”

Stiles stood expectantly and Derek unraveled from Laura and stepped towards him. Then, to his complete shock and amazement, Derek pulled Stiles in and _hugged_ him. Stiles tried to remain calm and was able to manage a few friendly pats on his back, frustrated with himself once more for feeling butterflies around his roommate. 

Derek went off to mingle for a while, as did Laura. She mainly stuck with her husband, an absurdly tall, bald man. Stiles saw Lydia talking with Jackson and felt a pang of jealously, remembering that they’d dated through most of high school. So Stiles decided to go mingle with some alcohol. 

The stripper was due to show up about two hours into the party, and kind of signify the closing. The event was not all that long for Derek’s sake, as he didn’t want one in the first place. People were of course invited to stay the night rather than drive home intoxicated, so the plan was is that after the woman left, people would finish up their fun and decide to leave or not. 

Speaking of fun, Stiles had gotten a bit buzzed after acquainting himself with a couple beers. He was feeling a bit more confident than normal and he decided to go bother Scott. 

Scott and Kira were seated near the window engrossed in conversation and each other’s presence. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and he occasionally whispered something to her and she giggled softly, leaning into him. Stiles felt like not regarding the concept of them wanting alone time, or even personal space, and plopped down on the ground next to his friends.

The couple looked at Stiles slightly confused but not irritated. Stiles gruffly handed them unopened beers and pointed at them with the neck of his own. “How’s this going?”

Scott smiled his crooked, puppy dog smile, “Fine?”

Stiles shook his head and gestured between the two with his bottle, “No, how’s _this_ going?”

The two looked at each other and smiled. “Awesome.” Scott said lowly and kissed Kira softly. Kira smiled and snuggled into Scott further.

Stiles watched the exchange and blinked. “So,” he said louder than necessary, wanting the attention back on him. “Should I propose to Lydia?”

Scott and Kira’s eyes widened drastically and they stared at their friend. “Are you saying that because you really want to or because you’re drunk?” Kira asked, confused. 

“Yes.” Stiles said and took a swig of his drink, and tried to stand up.

Scott grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “Woah, woah, woah, dude. You have to think about these things, this is a big deal. Plus, I know Lydia, and she will _not_ like it if you asked her that tonight.” 

Stiles hazily nodded and stood up, about to head over to Lydia, when he heard a knock at the door. Three subsequent, equally spaced knocks to be specific, as that’s what they instructed the stripper to do to signify her arrival. 

He made a bee-line for the door instead, setting down his drink as he passed by the table. He trotted up the couple of steps and slid open the door.

_Oh. My. God._

Laura had said she picked out a woman. This was no woman. 

A man stood in the doorway, contrapposto and arms crossed, looking interestedly at Stiles as his mouth was agape. He was dressed in what was clearly fake fireman attire, suspenders holding up baggy pants over large boots, and a matching hat. He was covered more in expanses of muscle rather than clothing, and a small smile played on his handsome face. 

“…Are you Jordan?” Stiles croaked.

The man shifted and beamed, “Are you the birthday boy?”

Stiles went sheet white and looked around desperately for Laura, luckily spotting her in the kitchen, throwing something away. He turned his attention back to _Jordan_ and tried to regain some composure. _This is a disaster._ “Follow me, please?” Stiles lead him quickly into the kitchen and to Laura, who turned and smiled at them.

“Hi! Welcome!” She said to Jordan. She took a couple steps and peered into the living room. “He’s the one standing by that speaker looking grumpy, see him? Whenever you’re ready, thank you!” Jordan smiled and tipped his fake fireman cap and headed out of the kitchen.

“ _Laura, what the fuck??_ ” Stiles harshly whispered. 

“What’s the matter?” Laura tilted her head and looked at the man with furrowed brows.

“What’s the matter? You said Jordan was a girl!”

“No, why would I hire a female stripper?”

“Gee, I don’t know, because it’s Derek’s party??”

Laura raised her eyebrows. “Derek is gay.”

Stiles was mortified enough as it is. He felt his face redden profusely and sputtered, “He _never_ told me that.” 

Laura laughed loudly. “Relax! This is gonna be great.” She passed by him and ruffled his hair on her way to the living room. 

Stiles followed quickly and was able to catch the exchange between the stripper and Derek.

Derek was alone at that point in the party, the initial rush of ‘Happy Birthday’s’ over and everyone was back to being involved with themselves. He stood by the speaker and listened to whatever hip-hop stuff Jackson had picked out. The stripper weaved through the party-goers and up to an unsuspecting Derek. Derek turned to Jordan and parted his lips slightly, eyes wide with shock and confusion. 

Jordan leaned in and whispered something in Derek’s ear, and his eyes went impossibly wider. Derek numbly nodded to whatever Jordan said and allowed himself to be lead into his bedroom.

As soon as the door shut, Stiles was fuming. He begged himself internally not to feel jealous. He had absolutely no reason to be, this was just a stripper, and he was not Derek’s boyfriend. In fact, he had an incredibly smart and beautiful girlfriend just yards away. He gritted his teeth and walked over to the dining table and grabbed another beer. 

Lydia had stopped talking to Jackson at the point, in fact, Jackson was nowhere to be seen. Instead she was just browsing through her phone, looking unimpressed. 

Stiles took a deep breath and stepped up to her side, snaking an arm around her waist. She seemed to barely take notice of him until he began softy biting and kissing at her neck. She giggled when he made a kitschy growling sound. 

“Hey, babe.” He whispered to her.

“Mmm?” She put her phone away and leaned into his side.

“Want to go to my room?”

“Sure.”

Stiles moved his hand from her waist to her wrist and gently pulled her through the crowd of mingling people to his bedroom, ushered her in and locked the door. 

The light in the room was dim, only moonlight coming from behind sheer curtains, and the air was stale and anomalous. Stiles began to feel uneasy in accompaniment with his flow of unwelcome emotions. He feared having an anxiety attack as he stared at the curtains that didn’t sway an inch. He felt arms coast along his shoulders and down the front of his shirt and began to relax back into Lydia’s warm body.

She pulled away and walked around to stare deeply into the man’s heavily-lidded eyes. She didn’t drop her eyes from his as she reached beneath her skirt to slowly tug down her panties. Stiles watched the action with great interest as she bent forward slightly and gently kicked them off her already shoeless feet.

When she fully stood back up, Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. A groan erupted, low and primitive, from his center and he picked her up roughly. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck, clinging to him for both safety and the need for closeness. He walked her over to the wall and pressed her back against it. 

With effort, he was able to unzip his own pants, and shuck his clothes down the bare minimum necessary for the act. He repositioned them both and crudely thrusted his erection inside her.

The sex was not great, but he needed it. He needed to feel relief, love, anything other than what he was feeling lately. He continued to fuck her against the wall of his bedroom with disregard to the rest of the party goers, being as loud and aggressive as possible. He drunkenly stabilized her, clawing and groping as much as he could, trying desperately to convince himself of something.

Lydia faked her orgasm, he could tell the difference by this point in their relationship, and insisted he pull out because they’d neglected a condom. 

Stiles nearly let her fall to the ground, but summoned his manners to set her on the ground gently and all but run to the adjoining bathroom to take care of business. 

Stiles’ mind continued to race with horrible thoughts of not being able to satisfy his girlfriend and Derek being satisfied by some other person entirely. That coupled with his waning intoxication, his arousal started to deplete. He was desperate for some release, regardless of what lead him to it.

He began to fantasize about the first person that came to his mind. To his fleeting dismay it was not Lydia.

_Derek dropped off the pull-up bar, body glistening with a thin layer of sweat and muscles shifting and bulging with every swaggering step he took to Stiles. Stiles sat on the couch with one leg tossed over the arm, and the other on the ground. He leaned back and watched his lover come to him._

_Derek stopped before the other and looked him up and down, as if sizing up his prey. He ran his hand up and down Stiles’ leg and got down to his knees. Derek nipped and nuzzled at Stiles inner thigh, coming closer and closer to his waiting erection._

_The older man freed Stiles of his pants slowly, pushing them down to puddle at his ankles. Stiles didn’t feel scrutinized or bare in the other’s presence. This was natural for them, they were one._

_Derek leaned in ever so slowly, and Stiles groaned at the feeling of breath against his skin. Derek licked his parted lips and- ___

He barely got that far. 

Stiles almost called out Derek’s name as he rubbed one out in his bathroom. He sat for a moment, coming down from his high, blush across his chest and face. He felt lost, confused, terrible, unfaithful, everything. 

Stiles cleaned himself up and went back to his room. Lydia was sitting on his bed, flipping through some drawings that Stiles had sitting on his desk previously. She noticed him walk in and set them back on his desk, looking at him forlornly. 

“What’s wrong?” He cautiously asked, sitting down beside her, taking her outstretched hand in his. He turned it over above his lap, and some part of him imagined a ring on one particular finger, but a larger part was filled with dread.

A sigh caught his attention, and he looked at Lydia, noticing that her eyes had glassed over. She set her jaw and blinked, as if willing herself not to break down.

Stiles’ eyes widened. His free hand came to caress her jaw, his thumb swiping over her cheek, wiping away tears that had yet to fall. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, sweetheart?” She didn’t answer, so he tried to make her laugh. “Was the sex _that_ bad?”

Her face scrunched up and she buried her head in his chest. He shushed her and smoothed her hair, letting her sob for a moment. He leaned back, still holding her, so that they were both lying on the bed. He settled on his back, with her at his side, clutching he fabric of his shirt. 

She lifted her head to look at him. Even though her eye makeup had run, and her nose was a bit pink, Lydia was so incredibly gorgeous. No amount of distress could take away from her aesthetic, she was like art. Stiles tucked a fallen lock behind her ear like he had so many times before, only this time, something was different, something was _wrong_.

“What is it? Can you tell me?” Stiles said as gently as possible.

“I… I can’t do this anymore.” Her eyes darted around.

Stiles picked his head up slightly and furrowed his brows. “Do what anymore?” He asked suspiciously.

Lydia sat up on the bed and looked down at Stiles. She placed her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. “Stiles, we need to… stop.” 

Stiles sat up so quick he felt dizzy. “Are you breaking up with me?” 

“Stiles, I-I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while. I’ve been trying to distance myself from you these past few months... I wanted you to have a nice stable job and a good place to live, with a person that made you happy. I just wanted you to be good on your own. But these past few days you’ve been coming to me more and more. I don’t know if it just seems like more because… because I want it to be less.” 

Stiles let out a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out.

“It’s not really that I _want_ less! I _need_ it. For myself. I love you a lot, Stiles, but I tried to taper this off as smoothly as I could. And, I just need to… to end it now. Or you’ll come to me again and I’ll change my mind.” 

The softest ‘why’ escaped Stiles lips, he wasn’t even sure it was loud enough to hear. 

Lydia continued, “It’s nothing sinister, it’s not because I don’t love you or anything like that. A while ago I got the opportunity to study abroad. I was given a six month notice, which runs out pretty soon. I can’t do long distance, you know that. I didn’t want it to happen this way.” She sniffled and wiped off a falling tear with her hand. “You know I act all bitchy as a cover, right? I actually have emotions.” She said a bit bitterly, feeling judged for her weakness. 

Stiles kept his breathing even and slow. Count in seven, hold for two, blow out seven. That’s what his therapist in high school had always said. _Seven, two, seven. Seven, two, seven._

“Where are you going?” He said, monotone. 

“The Netherlands.” She said with a sad smile. “You know I’m working on my doctorate. There are amazing research institutes in Europe, so I had to take the opportunity. I’ll be there for six years… Minimum.” She lowered her head. “Do you hate me?” 

_Seven, two, seven._ “No.” _Seven, two, seven._ “I love you.” 

Lydia made a pained noise and looked Stiles over. His eyes were elsewhere, lost in his own mind. She outstretched her hand to caress him, but hesitated and took it back. She rose up from the bed and stepped before Stiles. She leaned down and gave him a single kiss on the forehead before turning and walking out of the room, the sound of clicking heels reminding Stiles that he was not alone, although soon to be. 

All of Stiles’ past notions of not abusing alcohol for emotional support left when she did. With every new bottle of beer he downed, another guest left the party. He found himself eventually completely alone on the floor of the living room. Surrounded by cups and no longer enjoying the rug. He figured most of the people took a cab there anyway, and a lot didn’t even drink. But he knows that they left because Stiles was being a bit on the disorderly side, and news travels fast. 

The drinks were gone, they were all _gone_. Stiles laid flat on his back, not even bothering to brush away the tears that fell from the corners of his eyes and tickled his hairline. He laid there for a relative eternity until he heard the sound of Derek’s door pop open and after soft words were exchanged, the stripper made his own way to the door and left. Derek followed shortly after and locked the door, as the party was now over. 

Stiles remained there unnoticed by Derek, flat and silent, just watching from below. The older man headed back towards his room, but to Stiles’ surprise, rounded the corner and came to him instead. 

Derek crouched down by his head and tried to make eye contact with the boy who was looking nowhere. “Stiles, what’s the matter? You smell like you bathed in the drinks, dude.” 

Stiles blinked.

“Okay, come on.” Derek scooped Stiles up and brought him to his own bathroom. Stiles had only been in there one other time, but he didn’t really get to appreciate it now. Derek sat him on the closet toilet seat and held his face between his palms, turning it over and inspecting the damage. Stiles was pale and covered with a thin film of sweat. Derek sighed, “Are you going to throw up?” 

Stiles made a motion that could have been taken for nodding, so just to be safe, Derek moved him onto the floor and opened the lid. Unsurprisingly, Stiles moved right in and vomited up the contents of his stomach. Instead of wincing in disgust with each retch, Derek just rubbed Stiles’ back and murmured reassuringly. 

When he was out of booze and bile, Stiles slumped over onto Derek and panted softly, occasionally contracting as he harmlessly dry heaved. Derek draped a loose arm over his back and waited it out. 

When the storm had officially passed, Derek pushed Stiles up against the tiled wall and flushed the toilet. He walked into his room momentarily and returned, setting something on the counter. Stiles watched dazedly as his shirt was lifted off his own body and tossed into a hamper. Derek picked up a washcloth from a shelf and dampened it with soapy water. He wiped off Stiles’ face and chest, where he had spilled much of his drinks. Derek handed the other man a cup of mouthwash to swish while he pulled off his shoes and belt. 

Derek picked up the fabric from the counter, which turned out to be one of his own shirts, and pulled it over Stiles head, as he began to regain a more conscious mind and was able to help navigate his arms through the holes. 

Derek left again and returned with a glass of water, he handed it to Stiles and sat on the ground across from him, helping tip it up into the other’s mouth. Stiles was making it very difficult, but Derek seemed strangely patient. “You ready to talk yet?” 

Stiles lowered the glass and shuddered involuntarily. Derek plucked it from his hands and put it in his room. He returned a moment later and picked Stiles up once again as if he weighed nothing. He set Stiles down on his bed and pulled the duvet up to his chest. It was all so surreal to be in this room and to be treated this way after being royally and theatrically binned. He took in the swarm of Derek scent that surrounded him completely and watched the man shift awkwardly as he stood by the bed. “Hey.” Stiles peeped, as if he had just noticed his presence. 

Derek looked at him, concerned. “Hello.” 

Stiles tried to sit up, but in actuality he only twitched. “It’s your birthday; you shouldn’t be taking care of me.” He said weakly.

Derek sighed, “Don’t give me any of that, Stiles. Besides, if you’re out of commission, who’s gonna clean up that mess?” He added with a grin and a twinkle in his eye Stiles was unfamiliar with. 

Stiles smiled and settled further into the bed. It was softer than his own and more low to the ground. 

“So what happened to you?” Derek said softly. 

Stiles sighed and looked at the ceiling. “You got time?” 

Derek walked around the bed and Stiles felt the mattress dip as he climbed onto the other side. Stiles tried his best to think nothing of it as the two faced one another. 

Derek looked on with knitted brows as Stiles regaled him with the story of his heartbreak. Stiles inadvertently began crying again somewhere in the middle of it. 

Stiles sniffled “But, you know, enough about me, how was your birthday?” he whispered, voice wavering. 

Derek moved forward and wrapped his arms around Stiles. He didn’t understand where the affection had some from all a sudden, but he was not complaining. Stiles snuggled into his chest and allowed himself to cry as deeply as he needed. Eventually Stiles quieted and Derek un-winded from him. 

“Is this what it felt like when he did it?”

“When who did what?” Stiles inquired.

“When your father tried to drink away his problems.”

Stiles shifted uncomfortably. “What’s it feel like?”

“…Shitty.”

Stiles half-heartedly grinned. “Yeah.” He then acted on impulse that had nothing to do with his feelings for Derek. He leaned closer to him and buried his head in the other’s chest again. Derek did not protest, and Stiles was soon lulled to sleep by the soft rise and fall of his chest.

It was right before he slipped into unconsciousness that he realized. His feelings had gone beyond a crush, and were now something much deeper.


	8. Chapter 8

Waking up in Derek’s bed was certainly startling. As was waking up with Derek still with him in it.

Stiles opened his eyes and swiftly darted them around the room to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. He tried his best to remain absolutely still as he recalled the events of the night previous. The dread that crept up from the pit of his stomach from the memory was chased away by the feeling of something warm pressed up against his side. 

Before he snuggled into it, he turned his head slightly to see Derek, still fully dressed, sleeping soundly inches from his face. Stiles’ arms and leg ran the length of the front of the other man’s body. He didn’t really get to enjoy the moment because Derek stirred slightly, causing Stiles to panic and try to figure out a way to wriggle free of the situation.

Stiles didn’t want to wake Derek, but he most certainly didn’t want to be there when he woke up. He felt weird enough being there, and he didn’t think he’d be able to take Derek’s regretful gaze. Stiles shifted as quietly as possible, trying not to jostle the mattress and disturb Derek. He made it a whole inch before Derek stirred again, this time breaking their physical contact for himself. The older man rolled over on his side away from Stiles, who waited patiently for Derek’s breathing to even out once more. 

Stiles made his way to the edge of the bed in about five more minutes. He tried to slide off gracefully, but his foot hooked on the fitted sheet and he tumbled off the bed with a gasp and not so quiet clambering of limbs.

Derek shot straight up and looked at Stiles on the floor. Stiles gathered himself and stood awkwardly, unable to make eye contact. “Sup?” He said, breathless.

Derek smirked, “What just happened?”

“I- I, uh… fell off. Very slippery bed you got here. Thanks for letting me… use it.” 

The other man shifted slightly. “Yeah, uh. Anytime.” He said looking more at the bed than at Stiles.

Stiles tipped an imaginary hat and left the room, thoughts of last night racing through his mind. He was mostly confused at why he was not hungover at all. Last time he’d gotten shit-faced, he felt absolutely terrible for the longest time, and this should have been ten times worse. 

Stepping out into the living room really illuminated the fact. The floor and surfaces were littered with empty bottles and cups, chip bags and other types of trash. Stiles sighed and went to the kitchen to grab a trash bag. He collected all he could and then swept up remaining crumbs and glass pieces that were certainly his doing. He set the full trash bag by the door to take to the dumpster later. 

Stiles moved back some furniture and put his speakers into his room. He approached the large wooden dining table that Laura had moved for him. He pulled with all his might on the end but it didn’t budge. Then he tried to lift it up to reduce the friction to only two legs, but he couldn’t even get it off the ground. He huffed and tried to think of a new strategy. _How the hell did Laura get this out here?_

Before Stiles even set his hands on the table again, Derek appeared at his side, causing the younger man to jump slightly. “Hey.” He breathed. Derek nodded at Stiles and lifted the table at its middle and walked over to the kitchen with it effortlessly. Stiles stood with his mouth agape. “What the fuck, am I just _that_ weak?”

Derek snorted. “Yeah.” He grinned at Stiles and grabbed the bag of trash. He exited the loft and slid the door shut behind him. 

Stiles rolled his shoulders and did a once over of the living room. Everything was back in its proper place so he headed to his room and got ready for the day.

Afterwards he sat on his bed and checked through his phone. He stared at it for a while, waiting for some text from Lydia.

_I want to stay._

_Come with me._

_I love you._

But nothing.

He flopped back on his bed much like he did the night before, deciding that he didn’t want to sleep there that night. Every place seemed much less comfortable and safe that Derek’s room. 

He thought about getting some work done, or doing some drawings, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Before he knew it, tears were spilling from his eyes and he didn’t care enough to wipe them away. 

He felt like bricks were slowly piling up on his chest, weighing him down with grief and he didn’t know what to do about it. Stiles had chased Lydia since they were kids. He’d known her since kindergarten. He was sure he’d always loved her, and that one day finally they would get together. Never in a million years did he think they’d break up after all the time he’d spent chasing her. 

He rolled over on his bed so he faced the wall. His phone buzzed suddenly and he held on to the hope that it might be her. He looked at the screen and it read: Amber Alert.

He grimaced at the screen and chucked his phone at the wall, not caring if the screen shattered. Not caring about anything anymore.

The crash resounded through the empty room and he idly wondered what had broken. Hopefully not a monitor, but he wasn’t sure he’d even care.

He heard a weird rustling sound beyond his door and acted. He stood abruptly and opened the door to see Derek gently setting down a bag in front of it. A bag smelling of greasy, comforting, fast food. He stood and smiled sadly at Stiles. Stiles mirrored his expression. “Is this our thing, now?”

Derek shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

Stiles took him off guard and wrapped his arms roughly around his neck and clung for dear life. Derek seemed momentarily stunned but returned the embrace after a beat. Stiles snuggled into the crook of his neck and breathed deep. “Thank you.” He said quietly. 

Derek tightened his arms. “I wish I had something profound to tell you. But all I got is… don’t be sad?”

Stiles smiled. “Nice.”

“Sorry.”

Stiles pulled away slightly and looked at Derek, their faces inches away. Stiles was mesmerized by the intensity of his eyes as they looked right back into his. Stiles unconsciously parted his chapped lips and exhaled restively. 

“It’s okay.” Stiles whispered and flicked his gaze up and down his roommates face. 

“It’s… okay…?” Derek whispered back, eyes heavy and voice low. He leaned in a millimeter or so closer and Stiles was burning for the next thing to happen. 

However, it wasn’t what he expected. 

Derek’s eyes seemed to flash. Stiles couldn’t pinpoint exactly what happened, but they became intensely bright for a second, then returned to normal. The color was a bit different. Almost… _blue?_

Stiles breath caught in his throat and he felt his heart skip. Derek blinked a few times and leaned away. He stepped back and looked at the ground. Stiles felt as though he was about to fall off a ledge, but shook the feeling when Derek moved away.

As if on cue, Derek’s phone rang, and he awkwardly shuffled to get it out of his pocket, without looking up at Stiles. “Yes?” he said into the receiver. “Of course, I’m on my way.” He said quickly after a brief pause. He put his phone in his pocket and stalked quickly towards the door. He opened it swiftly and took a step forward. He stopped at turned towards Stiles, keeping his head down. “I gotta go. I’m sorry.” He said gruffly, and without further ado, left and slammed the door behind himself.

Stiles didn’t move from the spot for a few long minutes. He wasn’t sure what the appropriate response should be. Sad? Frightened? He wanted to cry or throw up, but did neither. Just another loss. There’ll surely be more. 

Stiles sent the remainder of the day working on his current gaming project. He was thinking all day about what had happened. He had a strange feeling that he should apologize. It’s not like anything happened, but the fact that it almost did felt inappropriate. He was living in Derek’s house, and he figured he should just keep his feelings to himself.

His completely unavoidable, dominant feelings that were controlling his life.

_Maybe I should tell him how I feel?_ Stiles toyed around with different tactics. _That sounds dangerous, I should just wing it._

Stiles was spinning around in his computer chair, finished with his work and waiting for Derek to return when he heard the lock click and the door slide open. He stood and headed into the living room to talk to Derek. 

He walked into the pitch black room, remembering that he forgotten to pull back the curtains. He walked, holding on to the wall, trying to find a light and willing his eyes to adjust. “Derek?”

No response.

He carefully stepped towards where he knew a lamp was on the end table and flipped the switch.

And nearly screamed.

Someone was there, but it was _not_ Derek. 

A man stood still by the entryway of the loft with the door shut behind him, the light of the lamp lighting him dimly in a sinister manner. He stood at least six and a half feet tall, wearing an all-black suit, and black Stetson. He looked as though he stepped out of another time, and remained still, the lighting of the room shading his face into something most insidious. 

_Who the fuck are you?? What are you doing here? Where’s Derek??_ Stiles wanted to scream, but couldn’t find his voice. He took a step back and raked his memory for places where some sort of weapon or defense would be hidden. 

The stranger took a step himself, toward the frightened man. Then another, then another. 

Stiles walked himself back up against the wall and gulped, the stranger was closing in. Stiles darted toward the door, summoning all of his lacrosse-days speed. He had his hand on the handle when another descended upon it, prying it away with inhuman strength. Stiles watched at the stranger crushed his fingers together. Stiles felt a wave of pain and heard a sickening crunch as he called out in agony. 

The man wrapped his other hand around Stiles’ neck and pushed him back from the door a bit. He pressed down enough to cause pain, but not restrict air flow. He tilted his chin up and the light was then able to reach his face.

Stiles had never seen this man before. He was plain looking: a stern face, mid-forties, with dark, cold eyes. He fixed his gaze on Stiles and loomed over him; the threat to tighten his grip loomed in the air without words. Stiles gasped as the stranger’s eyes flashed blue.

_Just like Derek’s._

Stiles’ heartbeat skyrocketed and he wriggled in the grip of the other man. “W-who are you?”

A deep gruff voice replied. “Not ‘ _What am I?_ ’” He chuckled. “This is my favorite part.” His smile became wolfish and twisted as his canines extended downward, and his eyes shone bright and constant. 

Stiles placed his hands on the one around his neck and tugged as he felt sharper pain dig into the sides of his throat. _Nails?_ Stiles grunted and tugged as the grip tightened. 

The last thing he saw was that hideous smile.

__

His throat burned, but that was probably the least of his worries.

The strong scent of mildew assaulted his nose. Stiles peered through blurry eyes, trying to see his surroundings. All he could see was one expansive concrete room. In front of him was a staircase with a few steps missing and in a generally bad condition. He noticed the low light of the moon coming from somewhere above him, suggesting it was still night. He tried to see where it was coming from but couldn’t. Instead his attention was caught by a small sniffle off to his right. 

A young girl was sitting on the floor about ten feet away from him. She stared straight ahead with tears running down her face. She was wearing muddy, torn clothes and seemed to have scratches all over her body. She lifted a hand to wipe at her face, and Stiles noticed the long cuffs and chains tied around her limbs and neck. They shifted and clambered when she raised her hand and set it back down. 

Stiles tried to scoot over to her but noticed that he too was chained to something. His cuff scraped across the ground and the girl whipped her head around to look at him, eyes filled with shock and terror. Stiles raised his hands to show his innocence and smiled softly at her, wincing mildly at the pain from his crushed hand. “Hi, I’m Stiles. What’s your name?” he croaked softly, cringing at the roughness of his voice.

The little girl sniffled again. “Amanda.” She whispered and her face relaxed slightly.

“Amanda, do you know what’s going on?”

She shook her head. “I’ve only been here for a couple more hours than you. He threw me down here and chained me. You were passed out when he brought you down. I guess he learned his lesson.” She smiled softly.

Stiles tilted his head to the side. “His lesson? What do you mean?” 

She beamed. “I bit him, just like I was taught. When a stranger tries to take you, you bite his hand!”

Stiles grinned at Amanda. “Good job.”

Her smile fell. “But were still here so it didn’t work that well. And no one’s coming to save us.” 

“Hey, that’s not true. In fact, I think you are the Amber Alert. Dozens of people are out looking, don’t worry, okay? It’s gonna be fine.”

They heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and she seemed to shrink into herself. “Shhhh! Oh god, he’s coming back!” She looked at Stiles with wide eyes as new tears began to fall.

Stiles looked at the door at the top of the stairs as it slowly creaked open. 

The same man from before slowly walked down, punctuating each step with a creak of the stair. He curved around the last step into the room, hand trailing on the banister. He walked slowly and menacingly up to Stiles and Amanda. 

Amanda shuddered and tried to scoot back farther, regardless of the wall. Stiles narrowed his eyes at the man, livid at his nerve to kidnap a child. “What are you doing? What’s going on?” Stiles barked, gratefully sounding a bit stronger than he felt. 

The man stopped looking between the two and focused on Stiles. “Oh, this is fun, isn’t it? This is the part where I tell you my ‘big, bad, evil scheme’ isn’t it?” he said, mockingly. “Well I do love to tell a good story when I get the oppurtunity, it won’t matter anyway. Chances are you’ll be dead soon.”

Stiles refused to show his fear despite his disadvantage. He sat up straight and stared right at the man with cold eyes.

The man kneeled down on the ground in front of Stiles’ outstretched feet. “So I guess this lovely story begins a little over twenty years ago. And I know you won’t believe this, but, I’m… not human.” He grinned again, exposing the fangs he’d grown before Stiles earlier, and flashing the bright blue across his eyes. “In fact, far from it. I’d say… wolf.

“Anyway, I was given this lovely ‘gift’ all those years ago. Although, then, I didn’t see it as a gift. More of a curse, really. I found that every full moon I had no control over myself. I’d run out and kill people and have no recollection the next day. That was just too bad. I wanted to really _enjoy_ the killing with my new strength. 

“So what I decided to do was sit around here all the time, occasionally go out into the preserve, kill a tourist or two on a hike, and come back for the full moons. I chained myself up, right where you’re sitting. Do you like those, Stiles?”

Stiles glanced down at the chains and grimaced. His face felt hot with rage. “How do you know my name?” 

“That’s something else that’s so wonderful about me, dear boy. I can hear everything. I know your name the same way I know little Amanda’s.” He turned his head towards her and smiled. “Shall I continue? I kept myself down here every full moon for twenty years. _Twenty years,_ can you believe that? It wasn’t much of a life. Very lonely.

“But then I heard tell of packs of people like me. Wolves are stronger in numbers. And I wanted to be an Alpha. I know that I’m meant to be an Alpha, I can feel it. These past months I’ve spent recruiting. But, it’s not going too well, not one bit. You see, I have no one yet. And it’s been just really… disappointing, Stiles. I’m planning something big here. I need to kill the wolf that turned me, so I can be an Alpha. But I need help, and so far no one has met my standards…

“Generally I bring someone down here, and see how strong their will is. I do this various ways. And in the end, since none of these people are strong enough, I have my fun killing them and put them out into the woods again. The police are saying that they are animal attacks. Which has been a great cover, I must say. 

“Which brings us to now. I need to see if you can help me, Stiles. Help me do what I have to do.” He sat up a little straighter, bouncing slightly on his heels. “Any question’s before we begin?” He beamed at the younger man.

“Why me?” Stiles said, unfeeling. He tried to remain calm after taking in the story.

“I’ve known you for a while, dear boy. Or should I say, I know your scent. You used to come to the reserve a lot, wander around, explore. I figured you’d acquired a great love for adventure. And when I went on my little excursion recently, I thought it was just too perfect that I stumbled upon your scent again. So naturally I followed you home and waited for a good time. There is something very interesting about where you live, I thought it wouldn’t be safe for some reason. 

“Anyway, I just wanted to see if you had any… spark.”

Stiles refused to look up at him and scowled. “What about Amanda, what use could she possibly be? She’s just a little girl for Christ’s sake.”

“Oh, I suppose that was for nostalgia purposes as well. There was always something so fun about killing a child. They can’t ever escape.”

Stiles had had enough. He stared hard at the man with austere eyes and pulled firm against the chains, trying to free himself. He didn’t know what he’d do next, but he knew this man needed to be silenced. 

The man laughed at him, darkly. “Oh, Stiles. Are you trying to get me?” He leaned more into Stiles’ space, just out of reach. “I can see you aren’t going to be of service to me. Oh well, let’s just skip right to the point, then.” Inhumanly fast, he grabbed Stiles’ shoulders and slammed them against the wall, Stiles’ head following suit and smacking roughly against the it. His vision clouded over and he felt wetness pool at the back of his head and drip downward. Stiles moaned at the ache spreading from his head down to his shoulders where hands still gripped him firmly and nails dug into his flesh.

“Let’s call that sedative. Now, what should I do with you? We can have some fun, eh?”

Stiles felt his eyes rolling back, accompanied by the feeling of one clawed hand scraping across his abdomen. The pain was excruciating and he involuntarily gurgled and the taste of metal flooded his mouth.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Amanda looking on in horror and covering herself with her arms. He knew rationally that they were alone, and that this was the end. But he summoned all he had to call out, “DEREK!” his cry was supplemented with a spray of blood that fanned out before him, and he was pleased at how loud he projected his voice. He fell back against the wall, when suddenly the hands were gone.

“Did you say ‘Derek’?” the stranger said slowly, with a hint of anger. “Derek _Hale_?”

Stiles fought to keep his eyes focused and swallowed down more blood.

The stranger grabbed Stiles again by his shirt and brought him close to his face. “I should have known! That odd scent! Its _him!_ He’s all over you!” He had a wild expression on his face, an odd mix of fury and sadistic joy. He pulled Stiles closer to him and sniffed along his neck, Stiles cringed and made a weak attempt to push him away. “Oh, you two are _real_ close, huh? Well you know what’s just the darndist thing? That’s who I want dead the most in this world.” He set Stiles down roughly. “This is very interesting news, indeed. You know what would be great, Stiles? If he came looking for you, when he noticed his little pet was missing, and he found you here, gasping for breath, so close to death. Then poor him, so distraught, will be distracted, and then I can kill him.” He reached out and traced his claws along Stiles’ jawline. “Thank you, sweet boy, the day has finally come.” Stiles’ eye’s slid closed.

“I don’t think so.”

Stiles willed his eyes open again. _Who said that?_

The man was quickly yanked off Stiles, straight back into space. Someone else stood behind the man, pulling him away with great force. Someone Stiles did not recognize. There was something off about the face of this man. It was distorted somehow, more like a wolf than the other man. He too had long sharp fangs, claws and bright blue eyes. But he also had pointed ears and hair that extended down his jaw and pointed at his forehead. There was something so familiar about this man, but Stiles didn’t quite know what.

The new man attacked the man with the hat, shoving him into the wall on the other side of the room and began to drag him up the stairs. The man with the hat was completely outmatched and struggled in vain as he was brought up and out of the large gray room. 

Stiles listened on to the sounds of carnage as best he could. He heard loud thumps against what he could only assume were walls. These were braided in with the sounds of grunting, growling and yelps. The battle ensued for no more than five minutes, when a final thump on the ceiling signified a victor. A few moments later, the hero opened the door and descended the stairs swiftly. 

His face was different again as he quickly approached Stiles. “Derek?” Stiles heard himself say softly. 

Derek kneeled down in front of Stiles and cupped his face in his hands. “I’m here, Stiles. Oh my god, I’m so sorry- I-I don’t-“ He moved his hands off his face and hovered them above the gashes on his abdomen. “Oh, Stiles-“

Stiles tilted his head toward Amanda. “Get her out, Derek… somewhere safe…” His head lolled forward and Derek hesitated before standing up.

Derek broke Amanda’s chains and scooped the frightened girl into his arms. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m the good guy, okay? I’m gonna take you somewhere safe, now.” Derek bounded up the stairs two at a time and left Stiles alone.

__

“Hey, don’t fall asleep, stay with me, stay awake!”

Unfortunately this was not a dream, and when Stiles peeled his eyes open again he was still in the room. He looked at Derek dazedly. “Hey.” He croaked. 

Derek smiled at him but Stiles could see that his eyes were wet. The older man uncuffed Stiles and laid him down more comfortably on the ground. “Okay, Stiles, just stay calm. I’m gonna fix this, okay? I’m going to make you feel better.”

Stiles jumped slightly and hissed as Derek pressed his palm into his lacerations. After a moment the pain subsided slightly, and then more and more until it was gone entirely. Stiles tried to move, but his head wound was causing him to drift in and out of consciousness. Derek placed his hand beneath Stiles’ head and did the same thing he had done to his stomach. Stiles felt the pain in his shoulders move to his neck, then up to just his head, and then it was gone entirely. 

“What else hurts?” Derek said softly.

Stiles weakly raised his hand that he suspected was broken and Derek took it gently in his. Stiles watched as black veins rose on Derek’s arm, the pain pulled from Stiles body and into his. Derek’s brow was furrowed in concentration and Stiles smiled.

“How’s that?”

Stiles tried to sit up, but felt a bit stiff, although the pain was entirely gone. Derek helped him back up against the wall and watched him intently. “Did you just heal me?” Stiles asked cautiously, looking down and seeing no wounds. He placed his hands on his stomach and mirrored the motion of claws ripping through his skin as he felt along the ripped pieces of fabric. 

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Derek looked down.

“So. Are you a… werewolf or something?”

Derek nodded slowly. 

“And so is Laura?”

He nodded again.

“That’s why you’re so strong, and you can hear everything, and you took away my pain this morning?”

Nod.

“And that was the man from your story?”

Nod.

“You turned him into a werewolf that night, didn’t you?”

Nod.

“All the murder’s recently… that was him?”

Nod.

“Well that’s… something. How did you find us?”

“Uhm… I got a call from Laura that there was a missing girl, and we had been suspecting supernatural activity from the previous killings. I went to go find her, but I picked up your scent. I looked everywhere, but then I heard you scream. I couldn’t believe you were at the house…”

“Is that why you’ve been leaving so much lately? You and Laura are out saving the world?” Stiles smiled. 

Derek stood up at Stiles’ side and looked down at his hands. “I’m so, so sorry you had to get involved in all this. I never wanted you to get hurt. That was the _last_ thing I ever wanted to happen. I know that I’m a… monster. And I can understand if you want to move out now. Maybe I should just go instead, you can have the loft, you never have to see me again-“ He started to take some steps back and turn away.

Stiles stood up, a little too quickly, and leaned against the wall to regain his balance. Derek turned back around and looked at him questioningly. “No, you’re not going anywhere.” He took a step forward, keeping his face straight and feeling brave. “I don’t care what you are, Derek! You just saved my life! And you’ve been one of the best friends I’ve ever had. Even though you’re grumpy and quiet, you are incredibly caring, and have shown me kindness no one else has in such a long time.

“You mean a lot to me, Derek. You can’t leave. And I guess… what I’m trying to say is…” Stiles gulped and looked right into Derek’s eyes. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll feed you, baby birds.
> 
> And speaking of deviating from the lore of the TV show, don't worry, its an AU anyway. <3


	9. Chapter 9

“You… love me?”

Stiles peeked through his closed eyes that he was unaware that he’d shut. Derek stood there looking skeptical and unamused. 

The older man rolled his eyes. “Cool, thanks.” He turned and began to walk towards the stairs again.

Stiles gasped. Instead of being sad, he was downright livid. He rushed over to block Derek’s path and shoved him. Derek hardly moved from the attack and avoided looking at Stiles. The younger man snapped his fingers in front of Derek’s face. “What the fuck?! You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be an asshole to me right now!”

Derek met Stiles’ rage filled gaze and raised his brows. “Me? I’m being an asshole?”

“Hell yeah, you are! I just told you something very personal. I admitted my feelings for you, but no! You have to continue to be a fucking brick wall. You don’t have to reciprocate but have some decency! I don’t care if you’re a werewolf or a human, you don’t do that!” Stiles balled up his fists and held them at his sides so he could deter himself from punching Derek. This was more for the safety of his hands, as he knew it surely couldn’t hurt Derek. 

The werewolf narrowed his eyes. “Admitted your feelings, yeah, right.” He shifted sideways, but Stiles matched his move and blocked his path as Derek tried to brush by him. “Stiles. Move.” Stiles folded his arms and remained. Derek shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Stiles. I do not have the time to sit here and be lectured about accepting your platonic ‘love’, okay?” he opened his eyes to see Stiles having not moved an inch, but dawning a deeper scowl. “I can’t take that! Not from you. So move, or I will move you myself.”

Stiles scoffed dryly. “Is that what this is, you don’t even believe me?” Stiles slammed the side of his fist into Derek’s chest to punctuate his words. “It’s not platonic love when I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s not platonic love whenever I see you and my mouth goes dry. It’s not platonic love when my girlfriend leaves and I’m relieved. It’s not platonic love when I feel like I never want to leave your side again. Platonic love doesn’t feel this way, and it definitely doesn’t make you this fucking angry!” He yelled the last few words up into Derek’s expressionless mug. 

Derek watched Stiles shake with anger and furrowed his brow. He tilted his chin down and looked at Stiles through his lashes. “…Really?”

Stiles was breathless. “What?”

Derek seemed small despite his physical size. “Do you really feel that way?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Well yeah, that’s what I’ve been trying to fucking tell you-“

He was cut off before another rant could begin by a pair of lips slamming clumsily into his. His eyes widened as he tried to comprehend the situation. He allowed himself a moment of confusion before kissing Derek back. He was still idly trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, but the larger portion of his brain was focused on enjoying the moment.

Derek’s arms slid around Stiles’ waist and he positioned his body more conformably into what started out as an awkward kiss. Stiles reached up and hooked his arms around Derek’s neck; in his mind acting out what he had hoped would happen that morning. He threaded a hand into Derek’s hair and tugged lightly, causing Derek to groan and bite down gently on Stiles’ lower lip. Stiles smiled into the kiss and laughed.

Derek pulled away and looked down at Stiles. He stepped back and began to walk towards the small window above where Stiles had been chained. Stiles felt as though all the warmth in his body had left him and was now walking away and felt-for once- at a loss for words. But it didn’t last long as he trailed Derek’s movements with his eyes. “Hey, where are you going? I thought something amazing was occurring!” He followed after Derek like a puppy and stared at him expectantly when he turned back to face him.

The moonlight shining through the window illuminated the tussled locks of Derek’s hair, causing him to somehow look sexier than usual. He smiled at Stiles, “Do you want the cops to find you here?”

_The cops?_ “Wha-“ Stiles heard the distant sound of a patrol car approaching and looked at Derek knowingly. “Let’s get out of here.”

Derek nodded and put his hands on the windowsill. With a grunt he hauled himself up and through the small window, just barely fitting. He turned around outside and kneeled on the ground. He put his hands back through the window for Stiles to grab. Stiles took hold of Derek’s forearms and Derek’s clasped his in turn. He pulled Stiles up like he weighed nothing. Stiles ungracefully pushed himself through the opening and onto the dirt that was only about six inches below it.

Derek stood and offered his hand to Stiles, who took it without hesitation. Derek smiled fondly at Stiles while he brushed off the leaves from his classic red hoodie. Stiles looked up at his and half-smiled, confused, “What?”

“Nothing, let’s go.”

They jogged through the preserve, away from the house. Stiles began to think after a few minutes that he probably should have gone on some runs with Derek. His side began cramping up and he was losing speed. Derek continued at his pace and drifted away from Stiles. He was afraid Derek might leave him in the woods until he saw him skid to a halt and turn back. He jogged up to Stiles who was now standing still, panting, and clutching at his cramp.

“Leave me… here t-to die.” He said melodramatically. 

Derek barked out a laugh and scooped Stiles up into his arms, cradling underneath his knees and upper back. Stiles yelped at the sudden movement and held onto Derek for dear life as he began to pick up speed again. Before they knew it, they were back at the apartment complex.

But Derek didn’t put Stiles down just yet.

Much to the younger man’s confusion he continued to walk, still holding Stiles and headed into the entrance of the building. They passed Monty on their way to the elevators, and Derek payed him little mind. Stiles swore he heard the old man say ‘finally’ under his breath as he mopped. His thought was confirmed by the silly grin on Derek’s face.

“I’ve never seen you smile so much. Are you high? Drugs are bad for you.” Stiles teased as they ascended in the elevator.

Derek stepped out of the lift and turned down their hallway. He kissed Stiles on the forehead, “I think you’re the one who is high, you said you were in love with me!”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

They approached the door and Derek repositioned Stiles, tossing him over his shoulder, fireman style. _That makes sense._ Stiles thought as he stared down towards Derek’s ass upside down. Derek fished for the keys in his pocket with his free hand, while holding Stiles’ legs with the other. Stiles took the opportunity and smacked Derek’s ass as he walked over the threshold into the apartment. 

Derek set Stiles down in front of him in the entryway and slid the door shut. The werewolf looked at his roommate with a pleasant expression on his face, so unlike his usual grimace. 

Stiles couldn’t help grinning like an idiot as if he’d just won the lottery. He swayed slightly, trying to think of something smart to say. “So…”

“So.”

“What’s all this mean? What are ‘we’?” He gestured between himself and Derek with his long, thin arms. 

Derek looked on, amused. “Well, you said you love me.”

“I do.”

“And… I love you.”

Stiles’ smile widened impossibly further. 

“Okay, well with your permission, I think we should be… lovers.” Derek looked slightly redder in the cheeks than the moment previous and slumped forward slightly, seeming less confident. 

Stiles’ eyes widened and darted around. “Is this an elaborate practical joke? Am I really asleep right now? This can’t be real life. Oh my god that would be devastating. Are we ‘together’ then? Does this mean we can do stuff together that would be considered ‘dates’? Monogamous couple things. Like feed ducks or something, I don’t know if people still feed ducks… But I mean if you like ducks I’m sure we can go find some to feed. Wait! I don’t even know if monogamy is your thing, I only found out that you were gay like yesterday. Holy shit it _was_ yesterday. Am I gay? I am certainly crazy about you. Oh my god can I touch you? Can we share a room? Can we have _sex_ -“ 

Stiles was getting really worked up and his words increased in speed until Derek clapped a hand over his mouth and stared at him with raised eyebrows. “Relax a little, okay?” He smirked and dropped his hand when Stiles calmed down a bit.

“Right, sorry.”

“In response... To some of that… I don’t think we need to feed ducks. But I wouldn’t hate hanging out with you more, just the two of us. And I think we can probably try spending some nights in the same room, but we don’t need to rush. Not everything needs to change at once, okay? We have plenty of time to adjust, if this is really something you want.” Derek said.

Stiles nodded and listened with rapt attention.

“And as for the rest, can you touch me?” Derek took a step forward and crowded Stiles’ space. He looked over him and Stiles gulped, remembering how much power he really has. Stiles looked up innocently and waited for something to happen. Derek ran his fingertips along the outer portion of the other man’s arm and let them linger by his wrist. Derek said softly, “…Only if I get to touch you.”

Stiles pushed up on the balls of his feet and kissed Derek. He felt arms slide underneath his and wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, just like before. Derek leaned down further so Stiles could reach him better. Stiles melted into the kiss and realized he’d never kissed anyone so tall, or anyone that wasn’t Lydia. Derek’s stubble added a friction that was not unpleasant, but was certainly foreign. Stiles didn’t know what to do with his hands so he placed one on Derek’s cheek and the other at the back of his neck. 

After a long moment of tame kissing and gentle stroking, the pace began to quicken. Stiles sucked Derek’s lower lip into his mouth and nibbled on it. He accidently let out a loud groan when Derek’s hands began to travel south. Stiles’ heartrate picked up when Derek cupped his ass with both hands and let his own moan. Stiles felt slightly self-conscious but continued on. 

He abandoned Derek’s mouth to kiss along his jawline and toward his neck. He took Derek’s earlobe between his lips and wet the skin. He nipped along the shell of Derek’s ear, occasionally blowing gently, making Derek lean into Stiles even more.

Derek grinded his hips into Stiles’, who then gasped at the feeling of the other man’s erection through his pants. He grinned at the thought of being responsible, but panicked because he had no clue what to do next. His own erection was straining against his clothing but he was too nervous and inexperienced to initiate anything more than kissing. 

Thankfully Derek picked up on this, and in a smooth motion, lifted Stiles by his ass up to his own waist. Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek and continued to kiss him fiercely. Derek walked casually into his room holding up Stiles while they familiarized themselves with each other’s mouths. 

Derek dropped Stiles onto his bed and stared down at him, panting. Stiles looked up numbly at the work of art and licked his swollen lips. Derek stared at him for another moment before slowly lifting his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground beside him. Stiles watched the garment puddle on the floor and looked back at Derek, feeling truly blessed that he didn’t have to look in secret anymore. 

Derek was all his and he was completely welcome to touch. Stiles reached up and ran his hand along Derek’s abs. His skin was soft and his flesh was firm, just like he had imagined. Derek also had an incredible warmth about him that Stiles was enthralled by. Derek moved in closer and pushed Stiles gently back father on the bed. Stiles awkwardly shifted up the mattress, trying to get his whole body onto it. He failed miserably at trying to look sexy doing it, but Derek didn’t seem to care as he got on his hands and knees and crawled up to Stiles. He straddled his waist and looked down at him like he was prey.

Derek kissed Stiles gently on the lips once, before moving down to his neck slowly, planting a kiss every few centimeters. He pushed down the shoulders of Stiles’ hoodie and freed him from it, tossing it thoughtlessly to the side. When his kisses reached the border of Stiles’ shirt collar he hooked his fingers beneath the hem, gently brushing Sties’ stomach. Stiles panicked and grabbed Derek’s wrist, stilling him.

Derek leaned back immediately, looking at Stiles with concern plastered all around his face. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles hesitated. “You know… I don’t look like any of your fireman pals…” He was feeling self-conscious again and he looked anywhere but into Derek’s eyes. “I have, like, negative-ten muscle and I’m super pale and…” 

“I’ve seen you without a shirt before.”

“I know, it’s just- now I feel like you’re really going to _look_ at me…” He sighed slowly and looked back at Derek.

Derek was staring at him with a very gentle, knowing expression. Derek leaned forward and kissed Stiles’ forehead. He pushed himself back up and took hold of Stiles’ shirt again. “Do you trust me?”

Stiles nodded.

“It’s okay.” Derek looked for signs of confirmation before slowly pushing the shirt up, exposing Stiles’ thin body, and lifting it over his head, tossing it to join the rest of the clothing. 

Derek’s eyes seemed to trace along every dip and plane of Stiles’ torso with fascination. Stiles shivered under Derek’s scrutiny and regretted immediately losing the garment. After a long moment Derek softly touched Stiles’ side. Stiles tensed and Derek quickly pulled his hand back, meeting Stiles’ worried eyes again. Without breaking the eye contact, Derek lowered his hand again and ran it along the side of Stiles’ torso. 

Derek’s gaze fell back to Stiles’ body and he smiled. “You are beautiful, Stiles.” Stiles blushed and fought not to squirm. Derek looked at him with furrowed brows. “I mean it. I think you’re perfect.”

Stiles smiled softly and trusted Derek’s words. He lifted his own hand to touch Derek’s waist to show he was ready to continue. Derek wasted no time and continued kissing along Stiles neck and down his chest. 

Stiles arched his back and hissed when Derek ran his teeth across a nipple. Derek smiled and nibbled at the bud again before continuing southward. He began to slow as he descended past Stiles’ waist. He put his hands on Stiles’ hips and rubbed gently. He moved a hand to Stiles’ pants and just barely touched the button before huffing out a laugh and sitting up. 

Stiles fidgeted and panted, confused. He looked at Derek, frightened.

“You know what I just realized? I don’t have any lube.” Derek smiled shyly and began to climb off of Stiles.

Stiles sat up abruptly and watched Derek slide off the bed. “Wait. What?? You don’t like have any in your nightstand or something?”

Derek looked at him incredulously as he picked his tee shirt off the floor. “Uh, no. People don’t always just have it lying around.”

“Yeah they do! You’re just supposed to lean over and grab it out of some drawer. Easy!”

“Who told you that?”

“…Fan fiction.”

Derek laughed. “Well, this isn’t fanfiction. That’s not really accurate. We need to be safe if you really want to do this, so we need a lubricant.”

Stiles pouted and fell back on the bed. “But didn’t you just have sex yesterday?”

Derek stared at him quizzically. “What? With who, Jordan? That was a stripper, you don’t have sex with strippers, Stiles.” He walked over to Stiles and kissed him quickly. “I think you need to read something different. I’ll be back before you know it.” He rushed out of the room and Stiles let out an annoyed groan.

He laid there for a second, trying not to lose the buzz of excitement and thinking about what Derek would do to him when he returned.

He wriggled uncomfortably and pressed his hand onto the front of his jeans, trying to alleviate the pressure. He was so close to getting what he’d been pining after for months. He lifted his hips off the bed and pushed his jeans down. He stopped to ungracefully remove his shoes before kicking his pants off the rest of the way. He yanked his socks off barbarically and threw them across the room. It was altogether very unprofessional, and he was glad Derek wasn’t there to see it.

“That was cute.”

Or was he?

Stiles groaned again when he saw Derek leaning in the doorway, holding a small plastic bag. 

_Oh, right, Werewolf. He must’ve ran._

Derek smiled and entered the room, toeing off his shoes and tossing the bag to Stiles. He pulled off his shirt and swiftly took off his own jeans. He crawled back onto the bed and sat next to Stiles, who was inspecting the new box of lube with great interest. 

Derek looked at Stiles with confusion. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

Stiles let out a nervous laugh. “Uhh… I’ve never had sex with anyone but Lydia. Are you uhh… top or a bottom?”

Derek shrugged. “Neither exclusively. But I’m guessing you’ve never been fucked, so you should probably fuck me, we can work on you later on.”

He said it so casually that Stiles couldn’t help but blush wildly. He looked back at the box of lube.

“Did fan fiction also tell you that you that you could just get fucked by someone with no prior preparation and it would feel good?”

Stiles nodded slowly.

“These things take time; you can get hurt if you’re not careful and slow. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” Derek leaned over and kissed Stiles on the jaw. He whispered, “Don’t worry, okay? I’m gonna make you feel really good tonight.” Stiles relaxed ever so slightly.

Derek took the box of lubricant away from Stiles and opened it. He pulled the tube out and turned it over in his hand. “Does this feel right to you? Do you really want to do this? We can try again some other time.”

Stiles shook his head wildly. “No way! Dude, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to have sex with you!” He stopped himself when he was about to reveal what he did at the party in the bathroom. 

Derek snorted and stared at him. “All I’m saying is you seem really nervous. Your heart is beating three hundred miles an hour.”

Stiles frowned and wriggled on the other side of the bed. “I want you _so_ bad…”

Derek smiled wolfishly and descended upon Stiles once more. He kissed all along Stiles neck and chest, softly biting and sucking hickeys into the pale skin. Stiles smiled at the thought of being marked by him and loosely draped his arms around Derek’s body to pull him closer. 

Derek softly asked permission before pulling off Stiles’ undergarments, and then subsequently his own. Stiles gasped at the feeling of their flesh rubbing together with no barriers of clothing. 

After another five or so minutes of foreplay, things were beginning to really heat up again. Stiles pulled and scratched Derek’s upper arms and back, moaning loudly at every bite and soft exchange of words. Derek growled whenever Stiles arched his back and thrust his hips upwards into Derek’s.

Derek pulled back from Stiles in order to fully straddle his hip area. He located the lube that he’d idly tossed on the bed at one point and flipped the cap. With gently parted lips and heavily lidded eyes he looked intensely at Stiles. Stiles had a similar expression and stared in full appreciation of Derek’s body and anticipation for the proceedings. 

“Okay, so, I know what I need to get myself ready for this, so I’ll do it this time. But I’ll teach you how to help later.”

Stiles nodded numbly as Derek spoke. His attitude about sex was so blasé and flowed easily from his lips. Stiles was jealous of his ability to convey these thoughts so professionally. 

Derek repositioned himself again so that one knee was about where Stiles’s waist was and the other was below the line of his hips. He lifted himself so his skin was just ghosting across Stiles’, and steadied himself with one arm by the other man’s head. With his free hand he deftly squirted lube onto his fingers and tossed the bottle aside. He rubbed the material between his first few fingertips and put his hand behind his body and out of sight from Stiles.

Derek took a deep breath and began to prepare himself. His eyes slid shut and he squeezed the sheet beside Stiles’ head. Stiles looked on with great interest and felt like he needed to participate. His hands twitched by his sides, thinking about what he should do. His prayers were answered when Derek let out a shaky breath and uttered, “Touch me.”

Stiles immediately followed the orders and wrapped one hand ineptly around Derek’s cock. Derek jerked slightly then relaxed as Stiles began to slide his hand up and down. Stiles had never touched another man’s penis before and was frankly a bit terrified. He just decided to do what he’d like from someone else. Apparently he wasn’t as terrible as he thought he was because Derek began to rock his hips softly forward into Stiles’ hand, matching the rhythm of his own endeavors. The older man let out a whine from deep within. 

Stiles grinned and moved his other hand to his own cock, feeling extremely aroused at the sight above him. Stiles furrowed his brow in concentration as he worked both himself and Derek. He moaned and arched up feeling overly sensitive.

Just before Stiles finished himself off, Derek leaned back up again. Stiles brought both hands back up and laid them on the mattress beside him. “Are you ready?” Derek asked, low and abnormal, a voice Stiles had never heard before. He nodded fiercely and Derek grinned. He leaned over and picked the little bag up of the floor. He pulled out another box, this one filled with condoms. He took one out and rolled it onto Stiles, who squirmed and panted at the sensation. 

Derek rolled his shoulders back and looked down more seriously at Stiles. “Okay, there are a lot of ways to do this, how would you feel most comfortable?”

Stiles racked his brain, he wasn’t expecting an option. He murmured quietly, “…Can you be on your back?”

Derek nodded once and climbed off of Stiles. He settled himself on the other side of the bed and gestured for Stiles to move with him. Derek picked up a pillow after Stiles moved off it and lifted his hips, slipping it underneath. Derek spread his legs a bit and propped up his upper body with the rest of the bed pillows, trying to help as much as he could. 

Stiles sat on his knees between Derek’s legs and felt extremely intimidated. _What if I suck at this? Derek’s probably had far better._ Derek looked at Stiles with a gentle smile and sat up. He kissed Stiles gently and caressed the side of his face with his hand. He leaned back to examine Stiles’ facial expression. Stiles smiled shyly and took a deep breath.

The younger man pushed Derek back onto the pillows and worked on positioning himself. Derek whispered gentle advice as he lined himself up. Stiles pushed into Derek slowly and their collective sighs of ecstasy filled the room. It was like nothing Stiles had ever felt before, much different than his usual gig. 

He summoned his strength and began to rock his hips forward, thrusting into Derek slow at first, but began to gradually increase speed. Derek ran his hands all over what he could reach of Stiles and occasionally kissed whatever skin was closest. “You’re doing great, keep go-“ Derek inhaled sharply and tightened his grip on the other man. “There! Right there, keep going! Oh, god-“ His eyelids fluttered and he continued to mutter encouraging words to Stiles. He lowered his hand to his cock and began to work himself in time with the thrusts.

Stiles felt over the moon. The rush of endorphins clouded his mind and dulled every sense but pleasure. Filthy moans escaped both their mouths and punctuated each slap of skin or creak from the bed frame. Stiles felt a familiar pressure building in his lower abdomen as his orgasm grew nearer. Derek egged him on with pleas and gasps. 

The two men came simultaneously and rode out their high with jerking hips and sloppy kisses. Stiles collapsed on top of Derek and panted. “T-that’s… how it is… in f-fan fiction…”

Derek‘s resounding laugh jostled Stiles who smiled in turn, breathless and elated. “I knew you were going to say that.”

Stiles pushed himself off of Derek and sat on the edge of the bed. He removed his condom, tied it off and binned it. He noticed Derek pulling on his discarded boxers so he followed suit. Stiles watched with curiosity as Derek rearranged the pillows to their normal position and laid down on one half of the bed. Stiles raised his eyebrows in question. Derek patted the bed and Stiles awkwardly laid down beside him.

Derek reached out and ran his hand along Stiles’ arm and hummed. Stiles scooted closer and let himself get wrapped up in Derek’s strong arms. “Was that… okay?” Stiles whispered.

“Yes, you were amazing, Stiles.” Derek said with a smile in his voice.

Stiles closed his eyes and leaned his head against Derek’s chest. He couldn’t accurately express his relief that all things had come into fruition and he was beyond ecstatic. He couldn’t help but think back to all those months ago when he moved into this loft. Never did he imagine that things would turn out this way, and that they would be so great. 

He wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist. “Thank you.”

Derek pressed a kiss to the top of Stiles’ head and they slowly drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been quite the journey, eh? I started writing this over a year ago and its FINALLY DONE. Thank you, thank you to the people who stuck with it the whole time. I really hope you liked it :)


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